OSS 


Y 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
RIVERSIDE 


Calumet  remained  unshaken 


[Page  253} 


THE  BOSS  OF 
THE  LAZY  Y 


BY 

CHARLES  ALDEN  SELTZER 


AUTHOR  OF 

THE  COMING  OF  THE  LAW, 
THE   TWO-GUN    MAN,  I.ETC 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

J.  ALLEN  ST.  JOHN 


NEW   YORK 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 

^PUBLISHERS 


P53JT.37 


Copyright 

A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co. 
1915 


Published  April,   1915 


Copyrighted  in  Great  Britain 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  The  Home-Coming  of  Calumet  Marston  i 

II.  Betty  Meets  the  Heir 18 

III.  Calumet's  Guardian 36 

IV.  Calumet  Plays  Betty's  Game 49 

V.  The  First  Lesson 56 

VI.  "Bob"   67 

VII.  A  Page  from  the  Past 82 

VIII.  The  Toltec  Idol 91 

IX.  Responsibility 112 

X.  New  Acquaintances 123 

XI.  Progress 143 

XII.  A  Peace  Offering 162 

XIII.  Suspicion   170 

XIV.  Jealousy   188 

XV.  A  Meeting  in  the  Red  Dog 198 

XVI.  The  Ambush 209 

XVII.  More  Progress 229 

XVIII.  Another  Peace  Offering 236 

XIX.  A  Tragedy  in  the  Timber  Grove 263 

XX.  Betty  Talks  Frankly 286 

XXI.  His  Father's  Friend 299 

XXII.  Neal  Taggart  Visits 313 

XXIII.  For  the  Altars  of  His  Tribe 329 


V 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 


CHAPTER  I 


THE    HOME-COMING  OF   CALUMET  MARSTON 


RUFFLING  down  the  long  slope,  its  tired 
legs  moving  automatically,  the  drooping  pony 
swerved  a  little  and  then  came  to  a  halt,  trem 
bling  with  fright.  Startled  out  of  his  unpleasant 
ruminations,  his  lips  tensing  over  his  teeth  in  a 
savage  snarl,  Calumet  Marston  swayed  uncer 
tainly  in  the  saddle,  caught  himself,  crouched,  and 
swung  a  heavy  pistol  to  a  menacing  poise. 

For  an  instant  he  hesitated,  searching  the  im 
mediate  vicinity  with  rapid,  intolerant  glances. 
When  his  gaze  finally  focused  on  the  object  which 
had  frightened  his  pony,  he  showed  no  surprise. 
Many  times  during  the  past  two  days  had  this 
incident  occurred,  and  at  no  time  had  Calumet 
allowed  the  pony  to  follow  its  inclination  to  bolt 
or  swerve  from  the  trail.  He  held  it  steady  now, 
pulling  with  a  vicious  hand  on  the  reins. 

Ten  feet  in  front  of  the  pony  and  squarely  in 
the  center  of  the  trail  a  gigantic  diamond-back 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

rattler  swayed  and  warned,  its  venomous,  lidless 
eyes  gleaming  with  hate.  Calumet's  snarl  deep 
ened,  he  dug  a  spur  into  the  pony's  left  flank,  and 
'  pulled  sharply  on  the  left  rein.  The  pony  lunged, 
swerved,  and  presented  its  right  shoulder  to  the 
swaying  reptile,  its  flesh  quivering  from  excite 
ment.  Then  the  heavy  revolver  in  Calumet's  hand 
roared  spitefully,  there  was  a  sudden  threshing  in 
the  dust  of  the  trail,  and  the  huge  rattler  shud 
dered  into  a  sinuous,  twisting  heap.  For  an  in 
stant  Calumet  watched  it,  and  then,  seeing  that 
the  wound  he  had  inflicted  was  not  mortal,  he 
urged  the  pony  forward  and,  leaning  over  a  little, 
sent  two  more  bullets  into  the  body  of  the  snake, 
severing  its  head  from  its  body. 

"  Man's  size,"  declared  Calumet,  his  snarl  re 
laxing.  He  sat  erect  and  spoke  to  the  pony: 
"Get  along,  you  damned  fool!  Scared  of  a 
side-winder ! " 

Relieved,  deflating  its  lungs  with  a  tremulous 
heave,  and  unmindful  of  Calumet's  scorn,  the 
pony  gingerly  returned  to  the  trail.  In  thirty 
seconds  it  had  resumed  its  drooping  shuffle,  in 
thirty  seconds  Calumet  had  returned  to  his  un 
pleasant  ruminations. 

A  mile  up  in  the  shimmering  white  of  the  desert 

[2] 


THE  HOME-COMING 


sky  an  eagle  swam  on  slow  wing,  shaping  his 
winding  course  toward  the  timber  clump  that 
fringed  a  river.  Besides  the  eagle,  the  pony,  and 
Calumet,  no  living  thing  stirred  in  the  desert  or 
above  it.  In  the  shade  of  a  rock,  perhaps,  lurked 
a  lizard,  in  the  filmy  mesquite  that  drooped  and 
curled  in  the  stifling  heat  slid  a  rattler,  in  the 
shelter  of  the  sagebrush  the  sage  hen  might  have 
nestled  her  eggs  in  the  hot  sand.  But  these  were 
fixtures.  Calumet,  his  pony,  and  the  eagle,  were 
not.  The  eagle  was  Mexican;  it  had  swung  its 
mile-wide  circles  many  times  to  reach  the  point 
above  the  timber  clump;  it  was  migratory  and 
alert  with  the  hunger  lust. 

Calumet  watched  it  with  eyes  that  glowed  bit 
terly  and  balefully.  Half  an  hour  later,  when  he 
reached  the  river  and  the  pony  clattered  down  the 
rocky  slope,  plunged  its  head  deeply  into  the 
stream  and  drank  with  eager,  silent  draughts, 
Calumet  swung  himself  crossWays  in  the  saddle, 
fumbled  for  a  moment  at  his  slicker,  and  drew  out 
a  battered  tin  cup.  Leaning  over,  he  filled  the 
cup  with  water,  tilted  his  head  back  and  drank. 
The  blur  in  the  white  sky  caught  his  gaze  and 
held  it  His  eyes  mocked,  his  lips  snarled. 

"  You  damned  greaser  sneak  1 "  he  said.     "  Fol- 

[3] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

lowed  me  fifty  miles ! "  A  flash  of  race  hatred 
glinted  his  eyes.  "  I  wouldn't  let  no  damned 
greaser  eagle  get  me,  anyway ! " 

The  pony  had  drunk  its  fill.  Calumet  re 
turned  the  tin  cup  to  the  slicker  and  swung  back 
into  the  saddle.  Refreshed,  the  pony  took  the 
opposite  slope  with  a  rush,  emerging  from  the 
river  upon  a  high  plateau  studded  with  fir  balsam 
and  pine.  Bringing  the  pony  to  a  halt,  Calumet 
turned  in  the  saddle  and  looked  somberly  behind 
him. 

For  two  days  he  had  been  fighting  the  desert, 
and  now  it  lay  in  his  rear,  a  mystic,  dun-colored 
land  of  hot  sandy  waste  and  silence;  brooding, 
menacing,  holding  out  its  threat  of  death  —  a  vast 
natural  basin  breathing  and  pulsing  with  mystery, 
rimmed  by  remote  mountains  that  seemed  tenuous 
and  thin  behind  the  ever-changing  misty  films  that 
spread  from  horizon  to  horizon. 

The  expression  of  Calumet's  face  was  as  hard 
and  inscrutable  as  the  desert  itself;  the  latter's 
filmy  haze  did  not  more  surely  shut  out  the  mys 
teries  behind  it  than  did  Calumet's  expression  veil 
the  emotions  of  his  heart.  He  turned  from  the 
desert  to  face  the  plateau,  from  whose  edge 
dropped  a  wide,  tawny  valley,  luxuriant  with 

[4] 


THE  HOME-COMING 


bunch  grass  —  a  golden  brown  sweep  that  nestled 
between  some  hills,  inviting,  alluring.  So  sharp 
was  the  contrast  between  the  desert  and  the  valley, 
and  so  potent  was  its  appeal  to  him,  that  the  hard 
calm  of  his  face  threatened  to  soften.  It  was  as 
though  he  had  ridden  out  of  a  desolate,  ages-old 
world  where  death  mocked  at  life,  into  a  new 
one  in  which  life  reigned  supreme. 

There  was  no  change  in  Calumet's  expression, 
however,  though  below  him,  spreading  and  dip 
ping  away  into  the  interminable  distance,  slum 
bering  in  the  glare  of  the  afternoon  sun,  lay  the 
land  of  his  youth.  He  remembered  it  well  and 
he  sat  for  a  long  time  looking  at  it,  searching  out 
familiar  spots,  reviving  incidents  with  which  those 
spots  had  been  connected.  During  the  days  of 
his  exile  he  had  forgotten,  but  now  it  all  came 
back  to  him;  his  brain  was  illumined  and  memo 
ries  moved  in  it  in  orderly  array — like  a  vast 
army  passing  in  review.  And  he  sat  there  on  his 
pony,  singling  out  the  more  important  personages 
of  the  army — the  officers,  the  guiding  spirits  of 
the  invisible  columns. 

Five  miles  into  the  distance,  at  a  point  where 
the  river  doubled  sharply,  rose  the  roofs  of 
several  ranch  buildings  —  his  father's  ranch,  the 

[5] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

Lazy  Y.  Upon  the  buildings  Calumet's  army  of 
memories  descended  and  he  forgot  the  desert,  the 
long  ride,  the  bleak  days  of  his  exile,  as  he  yielded 
to  solemn  introspection. 

Yet,  even  now,  the  expression  of  his  face  did 
not  change.  A  little  longer  he  scanned  the  valley 
and  then  the  army  of  memories  marched  out  of 
his  vision  and  he  took  up  the  reins  and  sent  the 
pony  forward.  The  little  animal  tossed  its  head 
impatiently,  perhaps  scenting  food  and  compan 
ionship,  but  Calumet's  heavy  hand  on  the  reins 
discouraged  haste. 

For  Calumet  was  in  no  hurry.  He  had  not  yet 
worked  out  an  explanation  for  the  strange  whim 
that  had  sent  him  home  after  an  absence  of  thir 
teen  years  and  he  wanted  time  to  study  over  it. 
His  lips  took  on  a  satiric  curl  as  he  meditated, 
riding  slowly  down  into  the  valley.  It  was  in 
explicable,  mysterious,  this  notion  of  his  to  return 
to  a  father  who  had  never  taken  any  interest  in 
him.  He  could  not  account  for  it.  He  had  not 
been  sent  for,  he  had  not  sent  word;  he  did  not 
know  why  he  had  come.  He  had  been  in  the 
Durango  country  when  the  mood  had  struck  him, 
and  without  waiting  to  debate  the  wisdom  of  the 
move  he  had  ridden  in  to  headquarters,  secured 

[6] 


THE  HOME-COMING 


his  time,  and  —  well,  here  he  was.  He  had  pon 
dered  much  in  an  effort  to  account  for  the  whim, 
carefully  considering  all  its  phases,  and  he  was 
still  uncertain. 

He  knew  he  would  receive  no  welcome;  he 
knew  he  was  not  wanted.  Had  he  felt  a  longing 
to  revisit  the  old  place?  Perhaps  it  had  been 
that.  And  yet,  perhaps  not,  for  he  was  here  now, 
looking  at  it,  living  over  the  life  of  his  youth, 
riding  again  through  the  long  bunch  grass,  over 
the  barren  alkali  flats,  roaming  again  in  the  timber 
that  fringed  the  river  —  going  over  it  all  again 
and  nothing  stirred  in  his  heart — no  pleasure, 
no  joy,  no  satisfaction,  no  emotion  whatever.  If 
he  felt  any  curiosity  he  was  entirely  unconscious 
of  it;  it  was  dormant  if  it  existed  at  all.  As  he 
was  able  to  consider  her  dispassionately  he  knew 
that  he  had  not  come  to  look  at  his  mother's 
grave.  She  had  been  nothing  to  him,  his  heart 
did  not  beat  a  bit  faster  when  he  thought  of 
her. 

Then,  why  had  he  come?  He  did  not  know 
or  care.  Had  he  been  a  psychologist  he  might 
have  attempted  to  frame  reasons,  building  them 
from  foundations  of  high-sounding  phrases,  but 
he  was  a  materialist,  and  the  science  of  mental 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

phenomena  had  no  place  in  his  brain.  Some 
thing  had  impelled  him  to  come  and  here  he  was, 
and  that  was  reason  enough  for  him.  And  be 
cause  he  had  no  motive  in  coming  he  was  taking 
his  time.  He  figured  on  reaching  the  Lazy  Y 
about  dusk.  He  would  see  his  father,  perhaps 
quarrel  with  him,  and  then  he  would  ride  away, 
to  return  no  more.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the 
prospect  of  a  quarrel  with  his  father  brought 
him  a  thrill  of  joy,  the  first  emotion  he  had  felt 
since  beginning  his  homeward  journey. 

When  he  reached  the  bottom  of  the  valley  he 
urged  his  pony  on  a  little  way,  pulling  it  to  a  halt 
on  the  flat,  rock-strewn  top  of  an  isolated  ex 
crescence  of  earth  surrounded  by  a  sea  of  sage 
brush,  dried  bunch  grass,  and  sand.  Dismounting 
he  stretched  his  legs  to  disperse  the  saddle  weari 
ness.  He  stifled  a  yawn,  lazily  plunged  a  hand 
into  a  pocket  of  his  trousers,  produced  tobacco 
and  paper  and  rolled  a  cigarette.  Lighting  it  he 
puffed  slowly  and  deeply  at  it,  exhaling  the  smoke 
lingeringly  through  his  nostrils.  Then  he  sat 
down  on  a  rock,  leaned  an  elbow  in  the  sand, 
pulled  his  hat  brim  well  down  over  his  eyes  and 
with  the  cigarette  held  loosely  between  his  lips,, 
gave  himself  over  to  retrospection. 
[8] 


THE  HOME-COMING 


It  all  came  to  him,  as  he  sat  there  on  the  rock, 
his  gaze  on  the  basking  valley,  his  thoughts  cen 
tered  on  that  youth  which  had  been  an  abiding 
.nightmare.  The  question  was:  What  influence 
'had  made  him  a  hardened,  embittered,  merciless 
demon  of  a  man  whose  passions  threatened  always 
to  wash  away  the  dam  of  his  self-control?  A 
man  whose  evil  nature  caused  other  men  to  shun 
him;  a  man  who  scoffed  at  virtue;  who  saw  no 
good  in  anything? 

Not  once  during  his  voluntary  exile  had  he 
applied  his  mind  to  the  subject  in  the  hope  of 
stumbling  on  a  solution.  To  be  sure,  he  had  had 
a  slight  glimmering  of  the  truth;  he  had  realized 
in  a  sort  of  vague,  general  way  that  he  had  not 
been  treated  fairly  at  home,  but  he  had  not  been 
able  to  provide  a  definite  and  final  explanation, 
perhaps  because  he  had  never  considered  it  neces 
sary.  But  his  return  home,  the  review  of  the 
army  of  memories,  had  brought  him  a  solution  — 
the  solution.  And  he  saw  its  ruthless  logic. 

He  was  what  his  parents  had  made  him.  With 
out  being  able  to  think  it  out  in  scientific  terms 
he  was  able  to  expound  the  why  of  like.  It  was 
one  of  the  inexorable  rules  of  heredity.  To  his 
parents  he  owed  everything  and  nothing.  He 

[9] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

reflected  on  this  paradox  until  it  became  perfectly 
clear  to  him.  They — his  parents  —  had  given 
him  life,  and  that  was  all.  He  owed  them  thanks 
for  that,  or  he  would  have  owed  them  thanks  if 
he  considered  his  life  to  be  worth  anything. 
But  he  owed  them  nothing  because  they  had 
spoiled  the  life  they  had  given  him,  had  spoiled 
it  by  depriving  him  of  everything  he  had  a  right 
to  expect  from  them  —  love,  sympathy,  decent 
treatment.  They  had  given  him  instead,  blows, 
kicks,  curses,  hatred.  Hatred! 

Yes,  they  had  hated  him;  they  had  told  him 
that;  he  was  convinced  of  it.  The  reason  for 
their  hatred  had  always  been  a  mystery  to  him 
and,  for  all  he  cared,  would  remain  a  mystery. 

When  he  was  fifteen  his  mother  died.  On  the 
day  when  the  neighbors  laid  her  away  in  a  quiet 
spot  at  the  edge  of  the  wood  near  the  far  end  of 
the  corral  fence,  he  stood  beside  her  body  as  it 
lay  in  the  rough  pine  box  which  some  of  them 
had  knocked  together,  looking  at  her  for  the  last 
time.  He  was  neither  glad  or  sorry;  he  felt 
no  emotion  whatever.  When  one  of  the  neigh 
bors  spoke  to  him,  asking  him  if  he  felt  no  grief, 
he  cursed  and  stormed  out  of  the  house.  Later, 
after  the  neighbors  departed,  his  father  came 

[10] 


THE  HOME-COMING 


upon  him  in  the  stable  and  beat  him  unmercifully. 
He  came,  dry-eyed,  through  the  ordeal,  raging 
inwardly,  but  silent.  And  that  night,  after  his 
father  had  gone  to  bed,  he  stole  stealthily  out 
of  the  house,  threw  a  saddle  and  bridle  on  his 
favorite  pony  and  rode  away.  Such  had  been 
his  youth. 

That  had  been  thirteen  years  ago.  He  was 
twenty-eight  now  and  had  changed  a  little  —  for 
the  worse.  During  the  days  of  his  exile  he  had 
made  no  friends.  He  had  found  much  experi 
ence,  he  had  become  self-reliant,  sophisticated. 
There  was  about  him  an  atmosphere  of  cold  pre 
paredness  that  discouraged  encroachment  on  his 
privacy.  Men  did  not  trifle  with  him,  because 
they  feared  him.  Around  Durango,  where  he 
had  ridden  for  the  Bar  S  outfit,  it  was  known 
that  he  possessed  Satanic  cleverness  with  a  six- 
shooter. 

But  if  he  was  rapid  with  his  weapons  he  made 
no  boast  of  it.  He  was  quiet  in  manner,  unob 
trusive.  He  was  taciturn  also,  for  he  had  been 
taught  the  value  of  silence  by  his  parents,  though 
in  his  narrowed  glances  men  had  been  made  to 
see  a  suggestion  of  action  that  was  more  eloquent 
than  speech.  He  was  a  slumbering  volcano  of 
[II] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

passion  that  might  at  any  time  become  active  and 
destroying. 

Gazing  now  from  under  the  brim  o,f  his  hat 
at  the   desolate,    silent  world   that   swept   away 
from  the  base  of  the  hill  on  whose  crest  he  sat, 
his  lips  curved  with  a  slow,  bitter  sneer.     During 
the  time  he  had  been  on  the  hill  he  had  lived  over 
his  life  and  he  saw  its  bleakness,  its  emptiness, 
its  mystery.     This  was  his  country.     He  had  been 
born  here;  he  had  passed  days,  months,  years,  in 
this   valley.      He   knew   it,    and   hated  it.      He 
sneered  as  his  gaze  went  out  of  the  valley  and 
sought  the  vast  stretches  of  the  flaming  desert. 
He  knew  the  desert,  too;    it  had  not  changed. 
Riding  through  it  yesterday  and  the  day  before  he 
had  been  impressed  with  the   somber  grimness 
of  it  all,  as  he  had  been  impressed  many  times 
before  when  watching  it  from  this  very  hill.     But 
it  was  no  more  somber  than  his  own  life  had  been; 
its   brooding   silence   was   no    deeper   than    that 
which  dwelt  in  his  own  heart;    he  reflected  its 
spirit,  its  mystery  was  his.      His  life  had  been 
like  —  like  the  stretching  waste  of  sky  that  yawned 
above  the  desert,   as  cold,   hard,   and  unsympa 
thetic. 

He  saw  a  shadow;  looked  upward  to  see  the 

[12] 


THE  HOME-COMING 


Mexican  eagle  winging  its  slow  way  overhead,  and 
the  sneer  on  his  lips  grew.  It  was  a  prophecy, 
perhaps.  At  least  the  sight  of  the  bird  gave  him 
an  opportunity  to  draw  a  swift  and  bitter  com 
parison.  He  was  like  the  eagle.  Both  he  and 
the  bird  he  detested  were  beset  with  a  constitu 
tional  predisposition  to  rend  and  destroy.  There 
was  this  difference  between  them:  The  bird 
feasted  on  carrion,  while  he  spent  his  life  stifling 
generous  impulses  and  tearing  from  his  heart  the 
noble  ideals  which  his  latent  manhood  persisted 
in  erecting. 

For  two  hours  he  sat  on  the  hill,  watching. 
He  saw  the  sun  sink  slowly  toward  the  remote 
mountains,  saw  it  hang  a  golden  rim  on  a  barren 
peak;  watched  the  shadows  steal  out  over  the 
foothills  and  stretch  swiftly  over  the  valley 
toward  him.  Mystery  seemed  to  awaken  and  fill 
the  world.  The  sky  blazed  with  color — orange 
and  gold  and  violet;  a  veil  of  rose  and  amethyst 
descended  and  stretched  to  the  horizons,  envelop 
ing  the  mountains  in  a  misty  haze;  purple  shafts 
shot  from  distant  canyons,  mingling  with  the 
brighter  colors  —  gleaming,  shimmering,  ever- 
changing.  Over  the  desert  the  colors  were  even 
more  wonderful,  the  mystery  deeper,  the  lure 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

more  appealing.      But  Calumet  made  a  grimace 
at  it  all,  it  seemed  to  mock  him. 

He  rose  from  the  rock,  mounted  his  pony,  and 
rode  slo.wly  down  into  the  valley  toward  the  Lazy 
Y  ranch  buildings. 

He  had  been  so  busy  with  his  thoughts  that  he 
had  not  noticed  the  absence  of  cattle  in  the  valley 
—  the  valley  had  been  a  grazing  ground  for  the 
Lazy  Y  stock  during  the  days  of  his  youth  —  and 
now,  with  a  start,  he  noted  it  and  halted  his  pony 
after  reaching  the  level  to  look  about  him. 

There  was  no  sign  of  any  cattle.  But  he  re 
flected  that  perhaps  a  new  range  had  been  opened. 
Thirteen  years  is  a  long  time,  and  many  changes 
could  have  come  during  his  absence. 

He  was  about  to  urge  his  pony  on  again,  when 
some  impulse  moved  him  to  turn  in  the  saddle  and 
glance  at  the  hill  he  had  just  vacated.  At 
about  the  spot  where  he  had  sat — perhaps  two 
hundred  yards  distant — he  saw  a  man  on  a 
horse,  sitting  motionless  in  the  saddle,  looking  at 
him. 

Calumet  wheeled  his  own  pony  and  faced  the 

man.      The  vari-colojed  glow  from  the  distant 

mountains  fell  full  upon  the  horseman,  and  with 

the  instinct  for  attention  to  detail  which  had  be- 

[14] 


THE  HOME-COMING 


come  habitual  with  Calumet,  he  noted  that  the 
rider  was  a  big  man;  that  he  wore  a  cream- 
colored  Stetson  and  a  scarlet  neckerchief.  Even 
at  that  distance,  so  clear  was  the  light,  Calumet 
caught  a  vague  impression  of  his  features  —  his 
nose,  especially,  which  was  big,  hawk-like. 

Calumet  yielded  to  a  sudden  wonder  over  the 
rider's  appearance  on  the  hill.  He  had  not  seen 
him;  had  not  heard  him  before.  Still,  that  was 
not  strange,  for  he  had  become  so  absorbed  in 
his  thoughts  while  on  the  hill  that  he  had  paid 
very  little  attention  to  his  surroundings  except 
to  associate  them  with  his  past. 

The  man,  evidently,  was  a  cowpuncher  in  the 
employ  of  his  father;  had  probably  seen  him 
from  the  level  of  the  valley  and  had  ridden  to  the 
crest  of  the  hill  out  of  curiosity. 

Another  impulse  moved  Calumet.  He  decided 
to  have  a  talk  with  the  man  in  order  to  learn,  if 
possible,  something  of  the  life  his  father  had  led 
during  his  absence.  He  kicked  his  pony  in  the 
ribs  and  rode  toward  the  man,  the  animal  travel 
ing  at  a  slow  chop-trot. 

For  a  moment  the  man  watched  him,  still 
motionless.  Then,  as  Calumet  continued  to 
approach  him  the  man  wheeled  his  horse  and 
[15] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

sent  it  clattering  down  the  opposite  side  of  the 
hill. 

Calumet  sneered,  surprised,  for  the  instant,  at 
the  man's  action. 

"Shy  cuss,"  he  said,  grinning  contemptuously. 
In  the  next  instant,  however,  he  yielded  to  a  quick 
rage  and  sent  his  pony  scurrying  up  the  slope 
toward  the  crest  of  the  hill. 

When  he  reached  the  top  the  man  was  on  the 
level,  racing  across  a  barren  alkali  flat  at  a  speed 
which  indicated  that  he  was  afflicted  with  some 
thing  more  than  shyness. 

Calumet  halted  on  the  crest  of  the  hill  and 
waved  a  hand  derisively  at  the  man,  who  was 
looking  back  over  his  shoulder  as  he  rode. 

"Slope,  you  locoed  son-of-a-gun ! "  he  yelled; 
"  I  didn't  want  to  talk  to  you,  anyway !  " 

The  rider's  answer  was  a  strange  one.  He 
brought  his  horse  to  a  dizzying  stop,  wheeled, 
drew  a  rifle  from  his  saddle  holster,  raised  it  to 
his  shoulder  and  took  a  snap  shot  at  Calumet. 

The  latter,  however,  had  observed  the  hostile 
movement,  and  had  thrown  himself  out  of  the 
saddle.  He  struck  the  hard  sand  of  the  hill  on 
all  fours  and  stretched  out  flat,  his  face  to  the 
ground.  He  heard  the  bullet  sing  futilely  past 
[16] 


THE  HOME-COMING 


him;  heard  the  sharp  crack  of  the  rifle,  and 
peered  down  to  see  the  man  again  running  his 
horse  across  the  level. 

Calumet  drew  his  pistol,  but  saw  that  the  dis 
tance  was  too  great  for  effective  shooting,  and 
savagely  jammed  the  weapon  back  into  the  holster. 
He  was  in  a  black  rage,  but  was  aware  of  the 
absurdity  of  attempting  to  wage  a  battle  in  which 
the  advantage  lay  entirely  with  the  rifle,  and  so, 
with  a  grim  smile  on  his  face,  he  watched  the 
progress  of  the  man  as  he  rode  through  the  long 
grass  and  across  the  barren  stretches  of  the  level 
toward  the  hills  that  rimmed  the  southern  hori 
zon. 

Promising  himself  that  he  would  make  a  special 
effort  to  return  the  shot,  Calumet  finally  wheeled 
his  pony  and  rode  down  the  hill  toward  the 
Lazy  Y. 


[I?] 


CHAPTER  II 

BETTY   MEETS   THE    HEIR 

AN  emotion  which  he  did  not  trouble  himself 
to  define  impelled  Calumet  to  wheel  his 
pony  when  he  reached  the  far  end  of  the  corral 
fence  and  ride  into  the  cottonwood  where,  thir 
teen  years  before,  he  had  seen  the  last  of  his 
mother.  No  emotion  moved  him  as  he  rode 
toward  it,  but  when  he  came  upon  the  grave  he 
experienced  a  savage  satisfaction  because  it  had 
been  sadly  neglected.  There  was  no  headboard 
to  mark  the  spot,  no  familiar  mound  of  earth; 
only  a  sunken  stretch,  a  pitiful  little  patch  of  sand, 
with  a  few  weeds  thrusting  up  out  of  it,  nodding 
to  the  slight  breeze  and  casting  grotesque  shad 
ows  in  the  somber  twilight. 

Calumet  was  not  surprised.  It  was  all  as  he 
had  pictured  it  during  those  brief  moments  when 
he  had  allowed  his  mind  to  dwell  on  his  past;  its 
condition  vindicated  his  previous  conviction  that 
his  father  would  neglect  it.  Therefore,  his  satis 
faction  was  not  in  finding  the  grave  as  it  was,  but 
[18] 


BETTY  MEETS  THE  HEIR 

in  the  knowledge  that  he  had  not  misjudged  his 
father.  And  though  he  had  not  loved  his  mother, 
the  condition  of  the  grave  served  to  infuse  him 
with  a  newer  and  more  bitter  hatred  for  the  sur 
viving  parent.  A  deep  rage  and  contempt  slum 
bered  within  him  as  he  urged  his  pony  out  of  the 
wood  toward  the  ranchhouse. 

He  was  still  in  no  hurry,  and  soon  after  leaving 
the  edge  of  the  wo,od  he  halted  his  pony  and  sat 
loosely  in  the  saddle,  gazing  about  him.  When 
he  observed  that  he  might  be  seen  from  the  ranch- 
house  he  moved  deep  into  the  cottonwood  and 
there,  screened  behind  some  nondescript  brush, 
continued  his  examination. 

The  place  was  in  a  state  of  dilapidation,  of 
approaching  ruin.  Desolation  had  set  a  heavy 
hand  over  it  all.  The  buildings  no  more  resem 
bled  those  he  had  known  than  daylight  resembles 
darkness.  The  stable,  wherein  he  had  received 
his  last  thrashing  from  his  father,  had  sagged  to 
one  side,  its  roof  seeming  to  bow  to  him  in  deri 
sion;  the  corral  fence  was  down  in  several  places, 
its  rails  in  a  state  of  decay,  and  within,  two,  gaunt 
ponies  drooped,  seeming  to  lack  the  energy  nec 
essary  to  move  them  to  take  advantage  of  the 
opportunity  for  freedom  so  close  at  hand.  They 
[19] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

appeared  to  watch  Calumet  incuriously,  apathetic 
ally. 

Calumet  felt  strangely  jubilant.  A  vindictive 
satisfaction  and  delight  forced  the  blood  through 
his  veins  a  little  faster,  for,  judging  from  the 
appearance  of  the  buildings,  misfortune  must  have 
descended  upon  his  father.  The  thought  brought 
a  great  peace  to  his  soul;  he  even  smiled  when  he 
saw  that  the  bunkhouse,  which  had  sheltered  the 
many  cowboys  whom  he  had  hated,  seemed  ready 
to  topple  to  destruction.  The  smile  grew  when 
his  gaze  went  to  the  windmill,  to  see  its  long  arms 
motionless  in  the  breeze,  indicating  its  uselessness. 

When  he  had  concluded  his  examination  he  did 
not  ride  boldly  toward  the  ranchhouse,  but  made 
a  wide  circuit  through  the  wood,  for  he  wanted  to 
come  upon  his  father  in  his  own  way  and  in  his 
own  time;  wanted  to  surprise  him.  There  was 
no  use  of  turning  his  pony  into  the  corral,  for  the 
animal  had  more  life  in  him  than  the  two  forlorn 
beasts  that  were  already  there  and  would  not  stay 
in  the  corral  when  a  breach  in  the  fence  offered 
freedom.  Therefore,  when  Calumet  reached  the 
edge  of  the  wood  near  the  front  of  the  house  he 
dismounted  and  tied  his  pony  to  a  tree. 

A  moment  later  he  stood  at  the  front  door, 
[20] 


BETTY  MEETS  THE  HEIR 

filled  with  satisfaction  to  find  it  unbarred.  Swing 
ing  it  slowly  open  he  entered,  silently  closing  it 
behind  him.  He  stood,  a  hand  on  the  fastenings, 
gazing  about  him.  He  was  in  the  room  which 
his  father  had  always  used  as  an  office.  As  he 
peered  about  in  the  gray  dusk  that  had  fallen,  dis 
tinguishing  familiar  articles  of  furniture  —  a  roll- 
top  desk,  several  chairs,  a  sofa,  some  cheap  prints 
on  the  wall  —  a  nameless  emotion  smote  him  and 
his  face  paled  a  little,  his  jaws  locked,  his  hands 
clenched.  For  again  the  army  of  memories  was 
passing  in  review. 

For  a  long  time  he  stood  at  the  door.  Then 
he  left  it  and  walked  to  the  desk,  placing  a  hand 
on  its  top  and  hesitating.  Doubtless  his  father 
was  in  another  part  of  the  house,  possibly  eating 
supper.  He  decided  not  to  bother  him  at  this 
moment  and  seated  himself  in  a  chair  before  the 
desk.  There  was  plenty  of  time.  His  father 
would  be  as  disagreeably  surprised  to  meet  him 
five  minutes  from  now  as  he  would  were  he  to 
stalk  into  his  presence  at  this  moment. 

Once  in  the  chair,  Calumet  realized  that  he  was 
tired,  and  he  leaned  back  luxuriously,  stretching 
his  legs.  The  five  minutes  to  which  he  had  lim 
ited  himself  grew  to  ten  and  he  still  sat  motion- 

[21] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

less,  looking  out  of  the  window  at  the  deepening 
dusk.  The  shadows  in  the  wood  near  the  house 
grew  darker,  and  to  Calumet's  ears  came  the  long- 
drawn,  plaintive  whine  of  a  coyote,  the  croaking 
of  frogs  from  the  river,  the  hoot  of  an  owl 
nearby.  Other  noises  of  the  night  reached  him, 
but  he  did  not  hear  them,  for  he  had  become  lost 
in  meditation. 

What  a  home-coming  I 

Bitterness  settled  into  the  marrow  of  his  bones. 
Here  was  ruin,  desolation,  darkness,  for  the  re 
turning  prodigal.  These  were  the  things  his 
father  had  given  him.  A  murderous  rage  seized 
him,  a  lust  to  rend  and  destroy,  and  he  sat  erect 
in  his  chair,  his  muscles  tensed,  his  blood  rioting, 
his  brain  reeling.  Had  his  father  appeared  be 
fore  him  at  this  minute  it  would  have  gone  hard 
with  him.  He  fought  down  an  impulse  to  go  in 
search  of  him  and  presently  the  mood  passed,  his 
muscles  relaxed,  and  he  stretched  out  again  in 
the  chair. 

Producing  tobacco  and  paper  he  rolled  a  ciga 
rette,  noting  with  a  satisfied  smile  the  steadiness 
of  his  hand.  Once  he  had  overheard  a  man  tell 
ing  another  man  that  Calumet  Marston  had  no 
nerves.  He  knew  that;  had  known  it.  He  knew 

[22] 


BETTY  MEETS  THE  HEIR 

also  that  this  faculty  of  control  made  his  passions 
more  dangerous.  But  he  reveled  in  his  passions, 
the  possession  of  them  filled  him  with  an  ironic 
satisfaction  —  they  were  his  heritage. 

While  he  sat  in  the  chair  the  blackness  of  the 
night  enveloped  him.  He  heard  no  sound  from 
the  other  part  of  the  house  and  he  finally  decided 
to  find  and  confront  his  father.  He  stood  erect, 
lit  the  cigarette  and  threw  the  match  from  him, 
accidentally  striking  his  hand  against  the  back  of 
the  chair  on  which  he  had  been  sitting.  Yielding 
to  a  sudden,  vicious  anger,  he  kicked  the  chair  out 
of  the  way,  so  that  it  slid  along  the  rough  floo^ 
a  little  distance  and  overturned  with  a  crash. 
Calumet  cursed.  He  was  minded  to  take  the 
chair  up  and  hurl  it  down  again,  so  vengeful  was 
the  temper  he  was  in,  but  his  second  sober  sense 
urged  upon  him  the  futility  of  attacking  inani 
mate  things  and  he  contented  himself  with  snarl 
ing  at  it.  He  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  a  hope 
in  his  heart  that  his  father,  alarmed  over  the  sud 
den  commotion,  would  come  to  investigate,  and  a 
wave  of  sardonic  satisfaction  swept  over  him  when 
he  finally  heard  a  faint  sound  —  a  footstep  in  the 
distance. 

His  father  had  heard  and  was  coming! 
[23] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

Calumet  stood  near  the  center  of  the  room,  un 
decided  whether  to  make  his  presence  known  at 
once  or  to  secrete  himself  and  allow  his  father 
to  search  for  him.  He  finally  decided  to  stand 
where  he  was  and  let  his  father  come  upon  him 
there,  and  he  stood  erect,  puffing  rapidly  at  the 
cigarette,  which  glowed  like  a  firefly  in  the  dark 
ness. 

The  steps  came  nearer  and  Calumet  heard  a 
slight  creak  —  the  sound  made  by  the  dining-room 
door  as  it  swung  slowly  open.  A  faint  light  filled 
the  opening  thus  made  in  the  doorway,  and  Calu 
met  knew  that  his  father  had  come  without  a 
light  —  that  the  faint  glow  came  from  a  distance, 
possibly  from  the  kitchen,  just  beyond  the  dining- 
room.  The  lighted  space  in  the  doorway  grew 
wider  until  it  extended  to  the  full  width  of  the 
doorway.  And  a  man  stood  in  it,  rigid,  erect, 
motionless. 

Calumet  stood  in  silent  appreciation  of  the  odd- 
ness  of  the  situation  —  he  had  come  like  a  thief 
in  the  night  —  until  he  remembered  the  cigarette 
in  his  mouth;  that  its  light  was  betraying  his 
position.  He  reached  up,  withdrew  the  cigarette, 
and  held  it  concealed  in  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

But  he  was  the  fraction  of  a  second  too  late. 
[24] 


BETTY  MEETS  THE  HEIR 

His  father  had  seen  the  light;  was  aware  of  his 
presence.  Calumet  saw  a  pistol  glitter  in  his 
hand,  heard  his  voice,  a  little  hoarse,  possibly 
from  fear,  give  the  faltering  command: 

"Hands  up!" 

Until  now,  Calumet  had  been  filled  with  a 
savage  enjoyment  of  the  possibilities.  He  had 
counted  on  making  his  presence  known  at  this 
juncture,  anticipating  much  pleasure  in  the  rev 
elation  of  his  father's  surprise  when  he  should 
discover  that  the  intruder  was  his  hated  son.  But 
in  his  eagerness  to  conceal  the  fire  from  the  ciga 
rette  he  burned  the  palm  of  the  hand  holding 
it.  Instantly  he  succumbed  to  a  furious  rage. 
With  a  snarl  he  flung  himself  forward,  grasping 
the  man's  pistol  with  his  left  hand  and  depressing 
the  muzzle,  at  just  the  instant  that  it  was  dis 
charged. 

Calumet  felt  the  sting  of  the  powder  in  his  face, 
and  in  a  fury  of  resentment  he  brought  his  right 
hand  up  and  clutched  his  father's  throat.  He 
had  taken  much  pride  in  his  ability  to  control  his 
passions,  but  at  this  moment  they  were  unleashed. 
When  his  father  showed  resistence,  Calumet 
swung  him  free  of  the  door,  dragged  him  to  the 
center  of  the  room,  where  he  threw  him  heavily 
[25] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

to  the  floor,  falling  on  top  of  him  and  jamming 
a  knee  savagely  into  the  pit  of  his  stomach. 
Perhaps  he  had  desisted  then  had  not  the  man 
struggled  and  fought  back.  His  resistence  made 
Calumet  more  furious.  He  pulled  one  hand  free 
and  attempted  to  secure  the  pistol,  forcing  the 
hand  holding  it  viciously  against  the  floor.  The 
weapon  was  again  discharged  and  Calumet  be 
came  a  raging  demon.  Twice  he  lifted  the  man's 
head  and  knocked  it  furiously  against  the  floor, 
and  each  time  he  spoke,  his  voice  a  hoarse,  throaty 
whisper: 

"So,  this  is  the  way  you  greet  your  son,  you 
damned  maverick!"  he  said. 

So  engrossed  was  Calumet  with  his  work  of 
subduing  the  still  struggling  parent  that  he  did  not 
hear  a  slight  sound  behind  him.  But  a  flicker 
ing  light  came  over  his  shoulder  and  shone  fairly 
into  the  face  of  the  man  beneath  him,  and  he 
saw  that  the  man  was  not  his  father  but  an  entire 
stranger ! 

He  was  not  given  time  in  which  to  express  his 
surprise,  for  he  heard  a  voice  behind  him  and 
turned  to  see  a  young  woman  standing  in  the 
doorway,  a  candle  in  one  hand,  a  forty-five  Colt 
clutched  in  the  other,  its  muzzle  gaping  at  him. 
[26] 


"Get  up,  or  I  will  shoot  you  like  a  dog!"  she  said 


BETTY  MEETS  THE  HEIR 

The  young  woman's  face  was  white,  her  eyes 
wide  and  brilliant,  she  swayed,  but  there  was 
determination  in  her  manner  that  could  not  be 
mistaken. 

"  Get  up,  or  I  will  shoot  you  like  a  dog! "  sin 
said,  in  a  queer,  breathless  voice. 

Releasing  his  grip  on  the  man's  throat,  Calume(. 
swung  around  sideways  and  glared  malevolently 
at  the  young  woman.  His  anger  was  gone;  there 
was  no  reason  for  it,  now  that  he  had  discovered 
that  the  man  was  not  his  father.  But  the  demon 
in  him  was  not  yet  subdued,  and  he  got  to  his 
feet,  not  because  the  young  woman  had  ordered 
him  to  do  so,  but  because  he  saw  no  reason  to 
stay  down.  A  cold,  mocking  smile  replaced  the 
malevolence  on  his  face  when,  after  reaching  an 
erect  position,  he  saw  that  the  weapon  in  the 
young  woman's  hand  had  drooped  until  its  muzzle 
was  directed  toward  the  floor  at  his  feet.  A 
forty-five  caliber  revolver,  loaded,  weighs  about 
forty  ounces,  and  this  one  looked  so  unwieldy  and 
cumbersome,  so  entirely  harmless  in  the  young 
woman's  slender  hand,  that  her  threat  seemed 
absurd,  even  farcical.  An  ironical  humor  over 
the  picture  she  made  standing  there  moved  Cal 
umet. 

[27] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Ti 

"  I  reckon  you  ought  to  use  two  hands  if  you 
want  to  hold  that  gun  proper,  ma'am,"  he  said. 

The  muzzle  of  the  weapon  wavered  uncer 
tainly;  the  young  woman  gasped.  Apparently 
the  lack  of  fear  exhibited  by  the  intruder  shocked 
her.  But  she  did  not  follow  Calumet's  sugges 
tion,  she  merely  stood  and  watched  him  warily, 
as  the  man  whom  he  had  attacked  struggled  diz 
zily  to  his  feet,  staggered  weakly  to  a  chair  and 
half  fell,  half  slipped  into  it,  swaying  oddly  back 
and  forth,  gasping  for  breath,  a  grotesque  figure. 

The  demon  in  Calumet  slumbered  —  this  situa 
tion  was  to  his  liking.  He  stepped  back  a  pace, 
and  when  the  young  woman  saw  that  he  meditated 
no  further  mischief  she  lowered  the  pistol  to  her 
side.  Then,  moving  cautiously,  watching  Calu 
met  closely,  she  placed  the  candle  on  the  floor  in 
front  of  her.  Again  she  stood  erect,  though  she 
did  not  raise  the  pistol.  Evidently  she  was  re 
gaining  her  composure,  though  Calumet  observed 
that  her  free  hand  came  up  and  grasped  the  dress 
over  her  bosom  so  tightly  that  the  fabric  was  in 
danger  of  ripping.  Her  face,  in  the  flickering 
light  from  the  candle  on  the  floor,  was  slightly  in 
in  the  shadow,  but  Calumet  could  see  that  the 
color  was  coming  back  to  her  cheeks,  and  he  took 
[28] 


BETTY  MEETS  THE  HEIR 

note  of  her,  watching  her  with  insolent  intent- 
ness. 

Of  the  expression  in  Calumet's  eyes  she  appar 
ently  took  no  notice,  but  she  was  watching  the 
man  he  had  attacked,  plainly  concerned  over  his 
condition.  And  when  at  last  she  saw  that  he  was 
suffering  more  from  shock  than  from  real  injury 
she  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  Then  she  turned 
to  Calumet. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  she  demanded. 
She  was  breathing  more  easily,  but  her  voice  still 
quivered,  and  the  hand  over  her  bosom  moved 
with  a  quick,  nervous  motion. 

"I  reckon  that's  my  business,"  returned  Calu 
met.  He  had  made  a  mistake,  certainly,  he  knew 
that.  It  was  apparent  that  his  father  had  left 
the  Lazy  Y.  At  least,  if  he  were  anywhere  about 
he  was  not  able  to  come  to  investigate  the  commo 
tion  caused  by  the  arrival  of  his  son.  Either  he 
was  sick  or  had  disposed  of  the  ranch,  possibly, 
if  the  latter  were  the  case,  to  the  girl  and  the 
man.  In  the  event  of  his  father  having  sold  the 
ranch  it  was  plain  that  Calumet  had  no,  business 
here.  He  was  an  intruder  —  more,  his  attack 
on  the  man  must  convince  both  him  and  the  girl 
that  there  had  been  a  deeper  significance  to  his, 
I.  29  1  •' 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

visit.  However,  the  explanation  of  the  presence 
of  the  present  occupants  of  the  house  did  not 
bother  Calumet,  and  he  did  not  intend  to  set  them 
right,  for  he  was  enjoying  himself.  Strife,  dan 
ger,  were  here.  Moreover,  he  had  brought  them, 
and  he  was  in  his  element.  His  blo.od  pulsed 
swiftly  through  his  veins  and  he  felt  a  strange 
exhilaration  as  he  stepped  slightly  aside  and  rested 
a  hand  on  the  desk  top,  leering  at  the  girl. 

She  returned  his  gaze  and  evidently  divined 
something  of  what  was  in  his  mind,  for  her  chin 
lifted  a  little  in  defiance.  The  flickering  light 
from  the  candle  fell  on  her  hair,  brown  and  wavy, 
and  in  a  tumble  of  graceful  disorder,  and  threw 
into  bold  relief  the  firm  lines  of  her  chin  and 
throat.  She  was  not  beautiful,  but  she  certainly 
merited  the  term  "pretty,"  which  formed  on 
Calumet's  lips  as  he  gazed  at  her,  though  it 
remained  unspoken.  He  gave  her  this  tribute 
grudgingly,  conscious  of  the  deep  impression  she 
was  making  upon  him.  He  had  never  seen  a 
woman  like  her — for  the  reason,  perhaps,  that 
he  had  studiously  avoided  the  good  ones.  Mere 
facial  beauty  would  not  have  made  this  impression 
on  him  —  it  was  something  deeper,  something 
more  substantial  and  abiding.  And,  watching 
[30] 


BETTY  MEETS  THE  HEIR 

her,  he  suddenly  knew  what  it  was.  There  was 
in  her  eyes,  back  of  the  defiance  that  was  in  them 
now,  an  expression  that  told  of  sturdy  honesty 
and  virtue.  These  gave  to  her  features  a  repose 
and  calm  that  could  not  be  disturbed,  an  uncon 
scious  dignity  of  character  that  excitement  could 
not  efface,  and  her  gaze  was  unwavering  as  her 
eyes  met  his  in  a  sharp,  brief  struggle.  Brief, 
for  Calumet's  drooped.  He  felt  the  dominant 
personality  of  the  girl  and  tried  to  escape  its 
effect;  looked  at  her  with  a  snarl,  writhing 
under  her  steady  gaze,  a  slow  red  coming  into  his 
cheeks. 

The  silence  between  them  lasted  long.  The 
man  on  the  chair,  swaying  back  and  forth,  began 
to  recover  his  wits  and  his  breath.  He  struggled 
to  an  erect  position  and  gazed  about  him  with 
blood-shot  eyes,  feeling  his  throat  where  Calu 
met's  iron  fingers  had  gripped  it.  Twice  his  lips 
moved  in  an  effort  to  speak,  but  no  sound  came 
from  between  them.  ' 

Under  the  girl's  uncomfortable  scrutiny,  Calu 
met's  thoughts  became  strangely  incoherent,  and 
he  shifted  uneasily,  for  he  felt  that  she  was  meas 
uring  him,  appraising  him,  valuing  him.  He  saw 
slow-changing  expressions  in  her  eyes  —  defiance, 

[31] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

scorn,  and,  finally,  amused  contempt.  With  the 
last  expression  he  knew  she  had  reached  a  deci 
sion,  not  flattering  to  him.  He  tried  to.  show  her 
by  looking  at  her  that  he  did  not  care  what  her 
opinion  was,  but  his  recreant  eyes  refused  the 
issue  and  he  knew  that  he  was  being  worsted  in 
a  spiritual  battle  with  the  first  strong  feminine 
character  he  had  met;  that  her  personality  was 
overpowering  his  in  the  first  clash.  With  a  last 
effort  he  forced  his  eyes  to  steadiness  and  suc 
ceeded  in  sneering  at  her,  though  he  felt  that 
somehow  the  sneer  was  ineffectual,  puerile.  And 
then  she  smiled  at  him,  deliberately,  with  a  disdain 
that  maddened  him  and  brought  a  dark  flush  to  his 
face  that  reached  to  his  temples.  And  then  her 
voice  taunted  him: 

"What  a  big,  brave  man  you  are?" 
Twice  her  gaze  roved  over  him  from  head  to 
foot  before  her  voice  came  again,  and  in  the  total 
stoppage  of  his  thoughts  he  found  it  impossible 
to  choose  a  word  suitable  to  interrupt  her. 

"For  you  think  you  are  a  man,  I  suppose?" 
she  added,  her  voice  filled  with  a  lashing  scorn. 
"  You  wear  a  gun,  you  ride  a  horse,  and  you  look 
like  a  man.  But  there  the  likeness  ends.  I 
suppose  I  ought  to  kill  you  —  a  beast  like  you 
[32] 


BETTY  MEETS  THE  HEIR 

has  no  business  living.  Fortunately,  you  haven't 
hurt  grandpa  very  much.  You  may  go  now  — 
go  and  tell  Tom  Taggart  that  he  will  have  to  try 
again ! " 

The  sound  of  her  voice  broke  the  spell  which 
her  eyes  had  woven  about  Calumet's  senses,  and 
he  stood  erect,  hooking  his  thumbs  in  his  cart 
ridge  belt,  unaffected  by  her  tirade,  his  voice 
insolent. 

"Why,  ma'am,"  he  said,  mockingly,  his  voice 
an  irritating  drawl,  "you  cert'nly  are  some  on 
the  talk,  for  sure !  Your  folks  sorta  handed  you 
the  tongue  for  the  family  when  you  butted  into 
this  here  world,  didn't  they?  An'  so  that's  your 
grandpa?  I  come  pretty  near  hurtin'  him  an* 
you're  some  het  up  over  it?  But  I  reckon  that 
if  he  has  to  set  around  an'  listen  to  your  palaver 
he'd  be  right  glad  to  cash  in.  Shucks.  I  beg 
your  pardon,  ma'am.  If  it'll  do  you  any  good 
to  know,  I  thought  your  poor  grandpap  was  some 
one  else.  I  was  thinkin'  it  was  a  family  affair 
an'  that  I  had  a  right  to  guzzle  him.  You  see, 
I  thought  the  ol'  maverick  was  my  father." 

The  girl  started,  the  color  slowly  faded  from 
her  cheeks  and  she  drew  a  long,  tremulous  breath. 

"Then  you,"  she  said;   "you  are "     She 

[33] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

hesitated  and  stared  at  him  intensely,  her  free 
hand  tightly  clenched. 

He  bowed,  derisively,  discerning  the  sudden 
confusion  that  had  overtaken  her  and  making  the 
most  of  his  opportunity  to  increase  it. 

"  I'm  Calumet  Marston,"  he  said,  grinning. 

The  girl  gasped.  "Oh!"  she  said,  weakly; 
"Oh!" 

The  huge  pistol  slipped  out  of  her  hand  and 
thudded  dully  to  the  floor  and  she  stood,  holding 
tightly  to  the  door  jambs,  her  eyes  fixed  on  Calu 
met  with  an  expression  that  he  could  not  analyze. 


1 34! 


CHAPTER  III 

CALUMET'S  GUARDIAN 

ANEW  silence  fell;  a  silence  pregnant  with 
a  premonition  of  renewed  strife.  Calumet 
felt  it  and  the  evil  in  him  exulted.  He  left  the 
desk  and  stepped  close  to  the  girl,  deftly  picking 
up  the  fallen  pistol  and  placing  it  on  the  desk 
back  of  him,  out  of  the  girl's  reach.  She  watched 
him,  both  hands  pressed  over  her  bosom,  appar 
ently  still  stunned  over  the  revelation  of  his 
identity.  There  was  mystery  here,  Calumet  felt 
it  and  was  determined  to  uncover  it.  He  took 
up  the  chair  that  he  had  previously  overturned 
and  seated  himself  on  it,  facing  the  girl. 

"  Set  down,"  he  said,  waving  a  hand  toward 
another  chair.  In  response  to  his  invitation  she 
moved  toward  the  chair,  hesitated  when  she 
reached  it,  apparently  having  nearly  recovered 
her  composure,  though  her  face  was  pale  and  she 
watched  him  covertly,  half  fearfully.  While  she 
seated  herself  Calumet  got  out  of  his  chair  and 
took  up  the  candle,  placing  it  on  the  desk  beside 

[35] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

the  pistol.  This  done,  he  busied  himself  with 
the  rolling  of  a  cigarette,  working  deliberately, 
an  alert  eye  on  the  girl  and  her  grandfather. 

The  latter  had  recovered  and  was  sitting  rigid 
in  the  chair,  fear  and  wonder  in  his  eyes  as  he 
watched  Calumet.  To  him  Calumet  spoke  when 
he  had  completed  the  rolling  of  the  cigarette 
and  was  holding  a  flaring  match  to  it.  He 
took  a  tigerish  amusement  from  the  old  man's 
plight. 

"  I  reckon  I  come  pretty  near  doin'  for  you, 
eh?"  he  said,  grinning.  "Well,  there  ain't  no 
tellin'  when  a  man  will  make  a  mistake."  His 
gaze  left  the  old  man  and  was  directed  at  the 
girl.  "  I  reckon  we'll  clear  things  up  a  bit  now, 
ma'am,"  he  said.  "  What  are  you  an'  your  grand- 
pap  doin'  at  the  Lazy  Y?" 

"We  live  here." 

"  Where's  the  old  coyote  which  has  been  callin' 
himself  my  dad?" 

A  sudden  change  came  over  the  girl;  a  vindic 
tive  satisfaction  seemed  to  radiate  from  her.  So 
it  appeared  to  Calumet.  In  the  flashing  look  she 
gave  him  he  thought  he  could  detect  a  knowledge 
of  advantage,  a  consciousness  of  power,  over  him. 
Her  voice  emphasized  this  impression. 
1  [36] 


CALUMETS  GUARDIAN 


"Your  father's  dead,"  she  returned,  and 
watched  him  narrowly. 

Calumet's  eyelashes  flickered  once.  Shock  or 
emotion,  this  was  all  the  evidence  he  gave  of  it. 
He  puffed  long  and  deeply  at  his  cigarette  and 
not  for  an  instant  did  he  remove  his  gaze  from 
the  girl's  face,  for  he  was  studying  her,  watching 
for  a  recurrence  of  the  subtle  gleam  that  he  had 
previously  caught  But  in  the  look  that  she  now 
gave  him  there  was  nothing  but  amusement. 
Apparently  she  was  enjoying  him.  Certainly  she 
had  entirely  recovered  from  the  shock  he  had 
caused  her. 

"Dead,  eh?"  he  said.  "When  did  he  cash 
in?" 

"A  week  ago  today." 

Calumet's  eyelashes  flickered  again.  Here  was 
the  explanation  for  that  mysterious  impulse  which 
had  moved  him  to  return  home.  It  was  just 
a  week  ago  that  he  had  taken  the  notion  and 
he  had  acted  upon  it  immediately.  He  had  heard 
of  mental  telepathy,  and  here  was  a  working 
illustration  of  it.  However,  he  gave  no 
thought  to  its  bearing  on  his  presence  at  the  Lazy 
Y  beyond  skeptically  assuring  himself  that  it 
was  a  mere  coincidence.  In  any  event,  what 
[37] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

did  it  matter?    He  was  here;  that  was  the  main 
thing. 

His  thoughts  had  become  momentarily  intro 
spective,  and  when  his  mental  faculties  returned 
to  a  realization  of  the  present  he  saw  that  the 
girl  was  regarding  him  with  an  intense  and  won 
dering  gaze.  She  had  been  studying  him  and 
when  she  saw  him  looking  at  her  she  turned  her 
head.  He  experienced  an  unaccountable  elation, 
though  he  kept  his  voice  dryly  sarcastic. 

"I  reckon  the  ol'  fool  asked  for  me?" 

"Yes." 

This  time  Calumet  could  not  conceal  his  sur 
prise;  it  was  revealed  in  the  skeptical,  sneering, 
boring  glance  that  he  threw  at  the  girl's  face, 
now  inscrutable.  Her  manner  angered  him. 

"  I  reckon  you're  a  liar,"  he  said,  with  cold 
deliberation. 

Thfi>girl  reddened  quickly;  her  hands  clenched. 
But  she  did  not  look  at  him. 
.    "Thank  you,"  she  returned,  mockingly.  ( 

"What  did  he  say?"  he  demanded  gruffly,  to 
conceal  a  slight  embarrassment  over  her  manner 
of  receiving  the  insult. 

Her  chin  lifted  disdainfully.      "You  wouldn't 
believe  a  liar,"  she  said  coldly. 
[38] 


CALUMETS  GUARDIAN 


Again  her  spirit  battled  his.  The  dark  flush 
spread  over  his  face  and  he  found  that  he 
could  not  meet  her  eyes;  again  the  sheer,  com 
pelling  strength  of  her  personality  routed  the 
evilness  in  his  heart.  Involuntarily,  his  lips 
moved. 

"  I  reckon  I  didn't  mean  just  that,"  he  said. 
And  then,  surprised  that  such  words  should  come 
from  him  he  looked  up  to  see  the  hard  calm  of 
her  face  change  to  triumph. 

The  expression  was  swiftly  transient.  It 
baffled  him,  filling  him  with  an  impotent  rage. 
But  he  watched  her  narrowly  as  she  folded  her 
hands  in  her  lap  and  looked  down  at  them. 

"Your  father  expected  you  to  come,"  she  said 
quietly.  "  He  prayed  that  you  might  return  be 
fore  he  died.  It  seems  that  he  felt  he  had  treated 
you  meanly  and  he  wanted  to  tell  you  that  he  had 
repented." 

A  cynical  wonder  filled  Calumet,  and  he 
,laughed — a  short,  raucous  staccato. 

"How  do  you  know?"  he  questioned. 

"He  told  me." 

Calumet  considered  her  for  a  moment  in  silence 
and  then  his  attention  was  directed  to  her  grand 
father,  who  had  got  to  his  feet  and  was  walking 
[39] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

unsteadily  toward  the  dining-room  door.  He  was 
a  well-preserved  man,  appearing  to  be  about  sixty. 
That  Calumet's  attack  had  been  a  vicious  one  was 
apparent,  for  as  the  man  reached  the  door  he 
staggered  and  leaned  weakly  against  the  jambs. 
He  made  a  grimace  at  Calumet  and  smiled  weakly 
at  the  girl. 

"  I'm  pretty  well  knocked  out,  Betty,"  he  said. 
"  My  neck  hurts,  sorta.  I'll  send  Bob  in  to  keep 
you  company." 

The  girl  cast  a  sharp,  eloquent  glance  at  Calu 
met  and  smiled  with  straight  lips. 

"Don't  bother  to  send  Bob,"  she  replied;  "I 
am  not  afraid." 

The  grandfather  went  out,  leaving  the  door 
open.  While  the  girl  stood  listening  to  his  re 
treating  steps,  Calumet  considered  her.  She  had 
said  that  she  was  not  afraid  of  him  —  he  believed 
her;  her  actions  showed  it.  He  said  nothing 
until  after  her  grandfather  had  vanished  and  his 
step  was  no  longer  heard,  and  then  when  she 
turned  to  him  he  said  shortly: 

"So  your  name's  Betty.     Betty  what?" 

"Clayton." 

"An'  your  grandpap?" 

"Malcolm  Clayton." 

[40] 


CALUMETS  GUARDIAN 


"Who's  Bob?" 

"My  brother." 

"Any  more  Claytons  around  here?"  he 
sneered. 

"No." 

"Well,"  he  said  with  truculent  insolence; 
"what  in  Sam  Hill  are  you-all  doin'  at  the  Lazy 
y,  anyway?" 

"  I  am  coming  to  that  presently,"  she  returned, 
unruffled. 

"Coin'  to  work  your  jaw  again,  I  reckon?" 
he  taunted. 

The  hard  calm  came  again  into  her  face  as  she 
looked  at  him,  though  behind  it  was  that  subtle 
quality  that  hinted  of  her  possession  of  advan 
tage.  Her  manner  made  plain  to  him  that  she 
held  some  mysterious  power  over  him,  a  power 
which  she  valued,  even  enjoyed,  and  he  was  net 
tled,  baffled,  and  afflicted  with  a  deep  rage  against 
her  because  of  it.  Dealing  with  a  man  he  would 
have  known  what  to  do,  but  he  felt  strangely  im 
potent  in  the  presence  of  this  girl,  for  she  was  not 
disturbed  over  his  insults,  and  her  quiet,  direct 
glances  affected  him  with  a  queer  sensation  of 
guilt,  even  embarrassed  him. 

"Well?"  he  prompted,  after  a  silence. 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about  your  father," 
she  said. 

"  Make  it  short,"  he  said  gruffly. 

"Five  years  ago,"  said  the  girl,  ignoring  the 
insolent  suggestion;  "my  father  and  mother  died. 
My  father  had  been  a  big  cattle  owner,"  she 
added  with  a  flash  of  pride.  "He  was  very 
wealthy;  he  was  educated,  refined  —  a  gentleman. 
We  lived  in  Texas  —  lived  well.  I  attended  a 
university  in  the  South.  In  my  second  year  there 
I  was  called  home  suddenly.  My  father  was  ill 
from  shock  and  disappointment.  He  had  in 
vested  heavily  in  some  northern  enterprise  —  it 
will  not  interest  you  to  know  the  nature  of  it — 
and  had  lost  his  entire  fortune.  His  ranch  prop 
erty  was  involved  and  had  to  be  sold.  There  was 
barely  enough  to  satisfy  the  creditors.  Father 
died  and  mother  soon  followed  him.  Grand 
father,  Bob,  and  I  were  left  destitute.  We  left 
the  ranch  and  took  up  a  quarter  section  of  land 
on  the  Nueces.  We  became  nesters  and  were 
continually  harassed  by  a  big  cattle  owner  nearby 
who  wanted  our  range.  We  had  to  get  out. 
Grandfather  thought  there  might  be  an  opportu 
nity  to  take  up  some  land  in  this  territory.  Bob 
was  —  well,  Bob  took  mother's  death  so  hard  that 
[42] 


CALUMETS  GUARDIAN 


we  didn't  want  to  stay  in  Texas  any  longer.  The 
outlook  wasn't  bright.  Bob  was  too  young  to 
work—" 

"  Lazy,  I  reckon,"  jeered  Calumet. 

The  girl's  eyes  flashed  with  a  swift,  contemptu 
ous  resentment  and  her  voice  chilled.  "  Bob's  leg 
was  hurt,"  she  said.  She  waited  for  an  instant, 
watching  the  sneer  on  Calumet's  face,  and  then 
went  on  firmly,  as  though  she  had  decided  not  to 
let  anything  he  said  disturb  her.  "  So  when 
Grandfather  proposed  coming  here  I  agreed. 
We  took  what  few  personal  effects  that  were  left 
us.  We  traveled  for  two  months — " 

"I  ain't  carin'  to  hear  your  family  history," 
interrupted  Calumet.  "You  started  to  tell  me 
about  my  dad." 

"  We  were  following  the  river  trail  near  here," 
the  girl  went  on  firmly,  scorning  to  pay  any  atten 
tion  to  this  insult;  "when  we  heard  shooting.  I 
stayed  with  the  wagon  while  grandfather  went  to 
investigate.  We  found  two  men  —  Tom  Tag- 
gart  and  his  son  Neal  —  concealed  in  the  cotton- 
wood,  trying  to  shoot  your  father,  who  was  in 
the  house.  Your  father  had  been  wounded  in 
the  shoulder  and  it  would  not  have  been  long 
before — " 

[431 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  7, 

"Who  are  the  Taggarts?"  questioned  Calu 
met,  his  lips  setting  strangely. 

"They  own  a  ranch  near  here  —  the  Arrow. 
The  motive  behind  their  desire  to  kill  your  father 
makes  another  story  which  you  shall  hear  some 
time  if  you  have  the  patience,"  she  said  with  jeer 
ing  emphasis. 

"I  ain't  particular." 

The  girl's  lips  straightened.  "  Grandfather 
helped  your  father  drive  the  Taggarts  away," 
she  went  on.  "  Your  father  was  living  here  alone 
because  several  of  his  men  had  sought  to  betray 
him  and  he  had  discharged  them  all.  Your 
father  was  wounded  very  badly  and  grandfather 
and  I  took  care  of  him  until  he  recovered.  He 
liked  us,  wanted  us  to  stay  here,  and  we  did." 

"Pretty  soft  for  a  pair  of  poverty-stricken 
adventurers,"  commented  Calumet. 

The  girl's  voice  was  cold  and  distinct  despite 
the  insult. 

"Your  father  liked  me  particularly  well.  A 
year  ago  he  drew  up  a  will  giving  me  all  his  prop 
erty  and  cutting  you  off  without  a  cent.  He  gave 
me  the  will  to  keep  for  him." 

"  Fine ! "  was  Calumet's  dryly  sarcastic  com 
ment. 

[44] 


CALUMETS  GUARDIAN 


"  But  I  destroyed  the  will,"  went  on  the  girl. 

Calumet's  expression  changed  to  surprised  won 
der,  then  to  mockery. 

"  You're  locoed !  "  he  declared.  "  Why  didn't 
you  take  the  property?" 

"I  didn't  want  it;   it  was  yours." 

Calumet  forgot  to  sneer;  his  wonder  and  aston 
ishment  over  the  girl's  ability  to  resist  such  a 
temptation  were  so  great  as  to  shock  him  to 
silence.  She  and  her  grandfather  were  depend 
ants,  abroad  without  means  of  support,  and  yet 
the  girl  had  refused  a  legacy  which  she  and  her 
relative  had  undoubtedly  earned.  Such  sturdy 
honesty  surprised  him,  mystified  him,  and  he  was 
convinced  that  there  must  have  been  some  other 
motive  behind  her  refusal  to  become  his  father's 
beneficiary.  He  watched  her  closely  for  a 
moment  and  then,  thinking  he  had  discovered  the 
motive,  he  said  in  a  voice  of  dry  mockery: 

"  I  reckon  you  didn't  take  it  because  there  was  • 
nothin'  to  take." 

"  Besides  the  land  and  the  buildings,  he  left 
about  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  cash,"  she  in 
formed  him  quietly. 

"Where   is   it?"   demanded   Calumet  quickly. 

Betty  smiled.      "That,"  she  said  dryly;    "is 
[45] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

what  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about."  Again  the 
consciousness  of  advantage  shone  in  her  eyes. 
Calumet  felt  that  it  would  be  useless  to  question 
her  and  so  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  re 
garded  her  saturninely. 

"Soon  after  your  father  became  afflicted  with 
his  last  sickness,"  continued  Betty;  "he  called 
me  to  him  and  took  me  into  his  confidence.  He 
talked  to  me  about  you  —  about  the  way  he  had 
treated  you.  Both  he  and  your  mother  had  been, 
he  said,  victims  of  uncontrollable  tempers,  and 
were  beset  with  elemental  passions  which  he  was 
certain  had  descended  to  you.  In  fact,  because 
of  the  hatred  your  mother  bore  you — "  She 
hesitated. 

"Well,  that  too,  belongs  to  the  story  which 
you  will  hear  about  Taggart  when  you  have  the 
patience,"  she  continued.  "But  your  father  re 
pented  ;  he  saw  the  injustice  he  had  done  you  and 
wanted  to  repair  it.  He  was  certain,  though, 
that  this  curse  of  temper  was  deep-seated  in  you 
and  he  wanted  to  drive  it  out.  He  felt  that  when 
you  finally  came  home  you  would  need  reforming, 
and  he  did  not  want  you  to  profit  by  his  money 
until  you  forgave  him.  He  had  strange  notions 
regarding  your  reformation;  he  declared  he 
[46] 


CALUMET'S  GUARDIAN 


would  not  take  your  word  for  it,  but  would  insist 
on  a  practical  demonstration.  When  he  had  fully 
explained  his  ideas  on  the  subject  he  made  me 
swear  that  I  would  carry  them  out."  She  paused 
and  looked  at  Calumet  and  he  saw  that  the  ex 
pression  of  advantage  that  had  been  in  her  eyes 
all  along  was  no  longer  a  subtle  expression,  but 
plain  and  unmistakable. 

Calumet  watched  her  intently,  silently,  his  face 
a  battleground  for  the  emotions  that  rioted 
within  him.  The  girl  watched  him  with  covert 
vigilance  and  he  felt  that  she  was  enjoying  him. 
And  when  finally  she  saw  the  rage  die  out  of  his 
eyes,  saw  the  color  come  slowly  back  into  his 
cheeks  and  his  face  become  a  hard,  inscrutable 
mask,  she  knew  that  the  coming  struggle  between 
them  was  to  be  a  bitter  one. 

"So,"  he  said,  after  a  while;  "I  don't  get  the 
coin  until  I  become  a  Sunday  school  scholar?" 

"  It  is  specified  that  you  give  a  practical  demon 
stration  of  reform  in  character.  You  must  show) 
that  you  forgive  your  father." 

''You're  goin'  to  be  my  guardian?" 

"Your  judge,"  corrected  the  girl. 

"He's  got  all  this  in  the  will?" 

"Yes,  the  last  one  he  made." 

U7] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"You  don't  reckon  I  could  break  that  will?" 
he  sneered. 

"Try  it,"  she  mocked.  "It  has  been  probated 
in  Las  Vegas.  The  judge  happens  to  be  a  friend 
of  your  father's  and,  I  understand,  sympathized 
with  him." 

"Clever,  eh?"  said  Calumet,  grinning  crook 
edly. 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  so,"  she  taunted. 


[48] 


CALUMET   PLAYS   BETTY'S   GAME 

f  I  A  HE  silence  between  Betty  and  Calumet  con- 
JL  tinued  so  long  that  it  grew  oppressive.  The 
night  noises  came  to  their  ears  through  the  closed 
door;  a  straggling  moonbeam  flittered  through 
the  branches  of  a  tree  in  the  wood  near  the  ranch- 
house,  penetrated  the  window  and  threw  a  rapier- 
like  shaft  on  Calumet's  sneering  face.  Betty's 
eyes  in  the  flickering  glare  of  the  candle  light, 
were  steady  and  unwavering  as  she  vainly  searched 
for  any  sign  of  emotion  in  the  mask-like  features 
of  the  man  seated  before  her.  She  saw  the  mask 
break  presently,  and  a  cold,  mirthless  smile 
wreathe  his  lips. 

"You  make  me  sick,"  he  said  slowly.  "If 
you'd  had  any  sense  you'd  have  told  the  old  fool 
to  go  to  hell!  You're  goin'  to  reform  me? 
You're  goin'  to  be  my  judge?  You — you  — 
you  !  Why  you  poor  little  sufferin'  innocent,  what 
business  have  you  got  here  at  all?  What  right 
have  you  got  to  be  settin'  there  tellin'  me  that 
[49] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

you're  goin'  to  be  my  judge;  that  you're  goin'  to 
butt  into  my  game  at  all?  Where's  the  money?" 
he  demanded,  his  voice  hard  and  menacing. 

"The  money  is  hidden,"  she  returned  quietly. 

"Where?" 

"That  is  my  business,"  she  returned  defiantly. 
"  Where  it  is  hidden  no  one  but  me  knows.  And 
I  am  not  going  to  tell  until  the  time  comes.  You 
are  not  going  to  scare  me,  either,"  she  added  con 
fidently.  "If  you  don't  care  to  abide  by  your 
father's  wishes  you  are  at  liberty  to  go  —  any 
where  you  please." 

"Who'd  get  the  money  then?" 

"You  have  a  year  in  which  to  show  that  you 
forgive  your  father.  If  at  the  end  of  that  time 
you  have  not  forgiven  him,  or  if  you  leave  the 
ranch  without  agreeing  to  the  provisions  of  the 
will,  the  entire  property  comes  to  me." 

"I  reckon  you'd  like  to  have  me  leave?"  he 
sneered. 

"That,"  she  returned,  unruffled,  "is  my  busi 
ness.  But  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  I  have 
no  interest  in  the  matter  one  way  or  another. 
You  may  leave  if  you  like,  but  if  you  stay  you  will 
yield  to  your  father's  wishes  if  you  are  to  receive 
the  money  and  the  property." 
[50] 


CALUMET  PLAYS  BETTY'S  GAME 

There  was  finality  in  her  voice;  he  felt  it  and 
his  face  darkened  with  passion.  A  sneer  replaced 
the  mirthless  grin  on  his  lips,  and  when  he  got  up 
and  moved  slowly  toward  Betty  she  sat  motion 
less,  for  there  was  a  repressed  savagery  in  his 
movements  that  chilled  her  blood.  He  came  and 
stood  in  front  of  her,  towering  over  her;  she  saw 
that  his  hands  were  clenched,  the  fingers  working. 
Twice  she  tried  to  look  up  at  him,  but  each  time 
her  gaze  stopped  at  his  hands  —  they  fascinated 
her.  She  tried  to  scream  when  she  finally  saw 
them  come  out  toward  her,  but  succeeded  in 
emitting  only  a  breathless  gasp,  for  a  broad, 
rough  palm  suddenly  enclosed  each  of  her  cheeks 
and  her  head  was  forced  slowly  and  resistlessly 
back  until  she  found  herself  looking  straight  up 
at  him. 

"Why,  you,"  he  said,  his  voice  vibrating  with 
some  strange  passion,  while  he  shook  her  head 
slowly  from  side  to  side  as  though  he  were  re 
sisting  an  impulse  to  throttle  her;  "why,  you  — 
you — "  he  repeated,  his  voice  a  sudden,  tense 
whisper:  "for  two  bits  I'd — " 

He  hesitated,  for  she  had  recovered  from  her 
momentary  physical  and  mental  paralysis,  roused 
by  the  awful  threat  in  his  voice  and  manner,  and 
[51] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

was  fighting  to-  free  herself,  clawing  at  his  hands, 
kicking,  squirming,  but  ineffectively,  for  his  hands 
were  like  bands  of  steel.  Finding  resistance  use 
less  she  sat  rigid  again,  her  eyes  flashing  impo 
tent  rage  and  scorn. 

"  Coward !  "  she  said  breathlessly. 

For  an  instant  longer  he  held  her  and  then 
laughed  and  dropped  his  hands  to  his  sides. 

"Shucks,"  he  said,  his  voice  expressing  disgust; 
"I  reckon  the  old  man  knowed  what  he  was 
doin'  when  he  appointed  you  my  guardian!  A 
man  can't  fight  a  woman  —  like  that!" 

He  walked  to  the  chair  upon  which  he  had  been 
sitting,  turned  it  around  so  that  its  back  was 
toward  Betty,  and  straddled  it,  leaning  his  arms 
on  its  back  and  resting  his  chin  on  them. 

"Well,"  he  said,  with  a  slow  grin  at  her;  "if 
it  will  do  you  any  good  to  know,  I've  decided  to 
stay  here  and  let  you  practice  on  me.  What's 
the  first  move?" 

But  his  action  had  aroused  her;  she  stood  up 
and  confronted  him,  her  face  flushed  with  shame 
and  indignation. 

"  Leave  this  house  !  "  she  commanded,  taking  a 
step  toward  him  and  speaking  rapidly  and 
hoarsely,  her  voice  quivering  as  though  she  had 


CALUMET  PLAYS  BETTY'S  GAME 

been  running;  "leave  it  instantly!  "    She  stamped 
a  foot  to  emphasize  the  order. 

Calumet  did  not  move.  He  watched  her,  a 
smile  on  his  lips,  his  eyes  narrowed.  When  she 
stamped  her  foot  the  smile  grew  to  a  short, 
amused  laugh. 

"Sorta  riled,  eh?"  he  jeered.  "Well,  go  as 
far  as  you  like  —  you're  sure  amusin'.  But  I 
don't  reckon  that  I'll  be  leavin'  here  in  a  hurry. 
Didn't  the  old  man  tell  you  I  could  stay  here 
a  year?  What's  the  use  of  me  goin'  now,  just 
when  you're  goin'  to  start  to  reform  me  ?  Why," 
he  finished,  surveying  her  with  interest;  "  I  reckon 
the  old  man  would  be  plumb  tickled  to  see  the 
way  you're  carryin'  on  —  obeyin'  his  last  wishes." 
He  rested  his  head  on  his  arms  and  laughed 
heartily. 

He  heard  her  step  across  the  floor,  and  raised 

his  head  again,  to  look  into  the  muzzle  of  the 

pistol  he  had  laid  on  the  desk.     It  was  close  to 

'him,  steady  in  her  hands,  and  behind  it  her  eyes 

were  blazing  with  wrath  and  determination. 

"Go!"  she  ordered  sharply;  "go  now  —  this 
minute,  or  I  will  shoot  you ! " 

He  laughed  recklessly  into  the  muzzle  of  the 
weapon  and  then  without  visible  excitement  turned 
[53] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

in  his  chair,  reached  out  a  swift  hand,  grasped 
the  weapon  by  the  barrel  and  depressed  the  men 
acing  muzzle  so  that  it  pointed  straight  down 
ward.  Holding  it  thus  in  spite  of  her  frantic 
efforts  to  wrench  it  free,  he  got  to  his  feet  and 
stood  in  front  of  her. 

"Why,  Betty,"  he  jeered;  "you're  sure  some 
excited."  Seizing  her  other  hand,  he  turned  her 
around  so  that  she  faced  him  fairly,  holding 
her  with  a  grip  so  tight  that  she  could  not 
move. 

"It's  your  game,  ain't  it?"  he  said  mockingly. 
"  Well,  I'm  playin'  it  with  you.  Somethin'  seems 
to  tell  me  that  we're  goin'  to  have  a  daisy  time 
makin'  a  go  of  it." 

He  suddenly  released  her  hands  and  stepped 
back,  leaving  her  in  possession  of  the  pistol. 

"Usin'  it?"  he  questioned,  drawling,  nodding 
toward  the  weapon.  Betty  looked  down  at  it, 
shuddered,  and  then  with  an  expression  of  dread 
and  horror  reached  out  and  laid  it  gingerly  on 
the  desk  top. 

The  next  instant  Calumet  stood  alone,  grin 
ning  widely  at  the  door  through  which  Betty  had 
vanished.  Listening,  he  heard  her  retreating 
steps,  heard  a  distant  door  slam.  He  walked  to 
[54] 


CALUMET  PLAYS  BETTY'S  GAME 

the  desk  and  looked  at  the  pistol,  then  turned  and 
surveyed  the  room  with  a  speculative  eye. 

"  She  didn't  even  offer  me  a  place  to  sleep,"  he 
said  mockingly. 

He  stood  for  an  instant  longer,  debating  the 
situation.  Then  he  crossed  the  floor,  closed  the 
dining-room  door,  fastened  it  securely  and  re- 
crossing  to  the  outside  door  stepped  down  from 
the  porch  and  sought  his  pony.  Ten  minutes 
later  he  carried  the  saddle  in,  threw  it  on  the  floor, 
folded  the  saddle  blanket  and  placed  it  on  the 
sofa,  closed  the  outside  door,  opened  the  window, 
snuffed  out  the  candle,  stretched  himself  out  on 
the  sofa  and  went  to  sleep. 


[55] 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   FIRST   LESSON 

QHORTLY  after  daybreak  the  following 
k-J  morning  Calumet  turned  over  on  his  back, 
stretched  lazily  and  opened  his  eyes.  When  a 
recollection  of  the  events  of  the  previous  night 
forced  themselves  into  his  consciousness  he 
scowled  and  sat  erect,  listening.  From  beyond 
the  closed  dining-room  door  came  sundry  sounds 
which  told  him  that  the  Claytons  were  already 
astir.  He  heard  the  rattle  of  dishes,  and  the 
appetizing  aroma  of  fried  bacon  filtered  through 
the  crevices  in  the  battered  door  and  assailed  his 
nostrils. 

He  scowled  again  as  he  rose  and  stood  look 
ing  down  at  his  saddle.  When  beginning  his 
homeward  journey  he  had  supplied  himself  with 
soda  biscuit  and  jerked  beef,  but  he  had  consumed 
the  last  of  his  food  at  noon  the  day  before  and 
the  scent  of  the  frying  bacon  aroused  him  to  the 
realization  that  he  was  ravenously  hungry.  As 
he  meditated  upon  the  situation  the  scowl  on  his 
[56] 


THE  FIRST  LESSON 


face  changed  to  an  appreciative  grin.  Now  that 
he  had  decided  to  stay  here  he  did  not  purpose 
to  go  hungry  when  there  was  food  around. 

Shouldering  his  saddle  he  left  the  office  and 
proceeded  to  the  stable,  in  which  he  had  placed 
his  pony  the  night  before.  He  fed  the  animal 
from  a  pitiful  supply  of  grain  in  a  bin,  and  after 
slamming  the  door  of  the  stable  viciously,  sneer 
ing  at  it  as  it  resisted,  he  stalked  to  the  ranch- 
house. 

There  was  a  tin  basin  on  a  bench  just  outside 
the  kitchen  door.  He  poured  it  half  full  of  water 
from  a  pail  that  sat  on  the  porch  floor,  and 
washed  his  hands  and  face,  noting,  while  engaged 
in  his  task,  a  clean  towel  hanging  from  a  roller 
on  tWfc  wall  of  the  ranchhouse.  While  drying 
his  face  he  heard  voices  from  within,  subdued, 
anxious.  Completing  his  ablutions  he  stepped  to 
the  screen  door,  threw  it  open  and  stood  on  the 
threshold. 

In  the  center  of  the  kitchen  stood  a  table  cov 
ered  with  a  white  cloth  on  which  were  dishes 
filled  with  food  from  which  arose  promising 
odors.  Beside  a  window  in  the  opposite  wall  of 
the  kitchen  stood  Malcolm  Clayton.  He  was 
facing  Calumet,  and  apparently  had  recovered 
[57] 


-      THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

from  the  encounter  of  the  night  before.  But 
when  he  looked  at  Calumet  he  cringed  as  though 
in  fear.  Betty  stood  beside  the  table,  facing  Calu 
met  also.  But  there  was  no  fear  in  her  attitude. 
She  was  erect,  her  hands  resting  on  her  hips,  and 
when  Calumet  hesitated  on  the  threshold  she 
looked  at  him  with  a  scornful  half  smile.  Yield 
ing  to  the  satanic  humor  which  had  received  its 
birth  the  night  before  when  he  had  made  his  deci 
sion  to  remain  at  the  Lazy  Y,  he  returned  Betty's 
smile  with  a  derisive  grin,  walked  to  the  table, 
pulled  out  a  chair,  and  seated  himself. 

It  was  a  deliberate  and  premeditated  infringe 
ment  of  the  proprieties,  and  Calumet  anticipated 
a  storm  of  protest  from  Betty.  But  when  he 
looked  brazenly  at  her  he  saw  her  regarding  him 
with  a  direct,  disdainful  gaze.  He  understood. 
She  was  surprised  and  indignant  over  the  action, 
possibly  shocked  over  his  cool  assumption,  but  she 
was  not  going  to  lose  her  composure. 

"Well,"  he  said,  keenly  enjoying  the  situation 
and  determined  to  torment  her  further,  "  set 
down.  I  reckon  we'll  grub." 

"Thank  you,"  she  mocked,  with  quick  sarcasm; 
"  I  was  wondering  whether  you  would  ask  us. 
Grandpa,"  she  added,  turning  to  Malcolm,  "won't 

[5*3 


THE  FIRST  LESSON 


you  join  us?  Mr.  Marston  has  been  so  polite  and 
thoughtful  that  we  certainly  ought  not  to  refuse 
his  invitation." 

She  drew  out  a  chair  for  Malcolm  and  stood 
beside  it  while  he  shuffled  forward  and  hesitat 
ingly  slipped  into  it,  watching  Calumet  furtively. 
Then  she  moved  quietly  and  gracefully  to  another 
chair,  directly  opposite  Calumet. 

Her  sarcasm  had  no  perceptible  effect  on  Calu 
met.  Inwardly  he  was  intensely  satisfied.  His 
action  in  seating  himself  at  the  table  without 
invitation  angered  Betty,  as  he  had  intended  it 
should. 

"Some  shocked,  eh?"  he  said,  helping  himself 
to  some  bacon  and  fried  potatoes,  and  passing 
them  to  her  when  he  had  finished  with  them. 

"Shocked?"  she  returned  calmly,  unconcern 
edly  supplying  herself  with  food  from  the  dishes 
she  had  taken  from  him,  "  Oh,  my,  no.  You  see, 
from  what  your  father  told  me  about  you,  I  rather 
'expected  you  to  be  a  brute." 

"Aw,  Betty,"  came  Malcolm's  voice,  raised  in 
mild  remonstrance;  "you  hadn't  ought  to — " 

"  If  you  please,  grandpa,"  Betty  interrupted 
him,  and  he  subsided  and  glanced  anxiously  at 
Calumet,  into  whose  face  had  come  a  dash  of  dark 

[59] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

color.  He  swallowed  a  mouthful  of  bacon  before 
he  answered  Betty. 

"  Then  you  ain't  disappointed,"  he  sneered. 

She  rested  her  hands  on  the  table  beside  her 
plate,  the  knife  and  fork  poised,  and  regarded 
him  with  a  frank  gaze. 

"  No,  I  am  not  disappointed.  You  quite  meet 
my  expectations.  In  fact,"  she  went  on,  "  I 
thought  you  would  be  much  worse  than  you  are. 
So  far,  if  we  except  your  attack  on  grandfather, 
you  haven't  exhibited  any  vicious  traits.  You 
are  vain,  though,  and  conceited,  and  like  to  bully 
people.  But  those  are  faults  that  can  be  cor 
rected." 

Calumet  had  to  look  twice  at  her  before  he 
could  be  certain  that  she  was  not  mocking  him. 

"I  reckon  you're  goin'  to  correct  them?"  he 
said,  then. 

She  took  a  sip  of  coffee  and  placed  the  cup 
delicately  down  before  she  answered. 

"Of  course  —  if  you  are  to  stay  here." 

"How?"  His  lips  were  in  an  incredulous 
sneer. 

"  By  showing  you  that  you  can't  be  conceited 
around  me,  and  that  you  can't  bully  me.  I  sup 
pose,"  she  went  on,  leaning  her  elbows  on  the 
[60] 


THE  FIRST  LESSON 


table  and  supporting  her  chin  with  her  hands  while 
she  looked  straight  at  him,  "  that  when  you  came 
in  here  and  took  a  seat  without  being  invited,  you 
imagined  you  were  impressing  some  one  with  yourf 
importance.  But  you  were  not;  you  were  merely 
acting  the  part  of  a  vulgar  boor.  Or  perhaps  you 
had  a  vague  idea  that  you  were  going  to  do  as  you 
please." 

He  placed  his  knife  and  fork  down  and  looked 
at  her.  Her  manner  was  irritating;  her  quiet, 
direct  glances  disconcerted  him.  He  could  not  fail 
to  see  that  he  had  signally  failed  in  his  effort  to 
disturb  her.  In  fact,  it  became  very  plain  to  him 
as  he  watched  her  that  she  was  serenely  conscious 
of  her  power  over  him,  as  a  teacher  is  conscious  of 
her  authority  over  an  unruly  pupil,  and  that,  like 
a  teacher,  she  was  quietly  determined  to  be  the 
victor. 

The  thought  angered  Calumet.  There  was  in 
his  mind  a  desire  to  humble  her,  to  crush  her,  to 
break  her  spirit,  to  drag  her  down  to  his  own 
level  where  he  could  fight  her  with  his  own  weap 
ons.  He  wanted  to  humiliate  her,  wanted  to  gloat 
over  her,  wanted  above  all  to  have  her  acknowl 
edge  his  superiority,  his  authority,  over  her.  Had 
he  been  able  to  do  this  at  their  first  meeting  he 
[61] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

would  have  been  satisfied;  if  he  were  able  to  do 
it  now  he  would  be  pleased. 

"  It's  none  of  your  business  what  I  thought," 
he  said,  leaning  over  the  table  and  leering  at  her. 
"  I'm  goin'  to  run  things  to  suit  myself,  an'  if  you 
an'  your  grandpap  an'  your  brother  don't  like  my 
style  you  can  pull  your  freight,  pronto.  I'm  goin' 
to  boss  this  ranch.  Do  you  get  me  ?  " 

She  seemed  amused.  "The  Lazy  Y,"  she  said 
slowly,  her  eyes  gleaming,  "has  need  of  some 
thing  besides  a  boss.  You  have  observed,  I  sup 
pose,  that  it  is  slightly  run  down.  Your  father 
purposely  neglected  it.  Considerable  money  and 
work  will  be  required  to  place  it  in  condition  where 
it  can  be  bossed  at  all.  I  haven't  any  doubt,"  she 
added,  surveying  him  critically,  "  that  you  will  be 
able  to  supply  the  necessary  labor.  But  what 
about  the  money?  Are  you  well  supplied  with 
that?" 

"  Meaning  to  hint  about  the  money  the  old 
man  left,  I  reckon?" 

"  Of  course.  Understand  that  I  have  control 
of  that,  and  you  won't  get  a  cent  unless  in  my 
opinion  you  deserve  it." 

He  glared  savagely  at  her. 

"  Of  course,"  she  went  on  calmly,  though  there 
[62] 


THE  FIRST  LESSON 


was  triumph  in  her  voice,  "you  can  force  us  to 
leave  the  ranch.  But  I  suspect  that  you  won't 
try  to  do  that,  because  if  you  did  you  would  never 
get  the  money.  I  should  go  directly  over  to  Las 
Vegas  and  petition  to  have  your  claim  annulled. 
Then  at  the  end  of  the  year  the  money  would  be 
mine." 

He  stiffened  with  impotent  rage  as  he  took  up 
his  knife  and  fork  again  and  resumed  eating.  He 
was  disagreeably  conscious  that  she  held  the  ad 
vantage,  for  assuredly  he  had  no  intention  of 
driving  her  from  the  ranch  or  of  leaving  it  him 
self  until  he  got  his  hands  on  the  money.  Besides, 
he  thought  he  saw  back  of  her  unconcern  over  his 
probable  course  of  action  a  secret  desire  for  him 
to  leave  or  to  drive  her  away,  and  in  the  per 
versity  of  his  heart  he  decided  that  both  must 
stay.  Something  might  occur  to  reveal  the  where 
abouts  of  the  money,  or  he  could  watch  her, 
reasonably  certain  that  one  day  her  woman's 
curiosity  would  lead  her  to  its  hiding  place. 
Plainly,  in  any  event,  he  must  bide  his  time. 
Though  his  decision  to  defer  action  was  taken, 
his  resentment  did  not  abate;  he  could  not  con 
quer  the  deep  rage  in  his  heart  against  her  because 
of  her  interference  in  his  affairs,  and  when  he 
[63] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

suddenly  looked  up  to  see  her  watching  him  with 
a  calm  smile  he  made  a  grimace  of  hatred  at  her. 

"  I'll  make  you  show  your  hand,  you  sufferin' 
fool!"  he  said.  "If  you  was  a  man  I'd  make 
you  tell  me  right  now  where  that  coin  is,  or  I'd 
guzzle  you  till  your  tongue  stuck  out  a  yard.  As 
it  is,  I  reckon  I've  got  to  wait  until  you  get  damn 
good  an'  ready;  got  to  wait  until  a  measly, 
sneakin'  woman — " 

Her  laugh  interrupted  him  —  low,  disdainful, 
mocking. 

"  I  think  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say. 
You  are  going  to  tell  me  how  I  wormed  my  way 
into  the  good  graces  of  your  father  and  coaxed 
him  to  make  me  his  beneficiary.  It  is  your  inten 
tion  to  be  mean,  to  insult  me,  to  try  to  bully  me." 
Her  eyes  flashed  as  she  leaned  a  little  toward 
him.  "Understand,"  she  said;  "your  bluster 
won't  have  the  slightest  effect  on  me.  I  am  not 
afraid  of  you.  So  swear  and  curse  to  your  heart's 
content.  As  for  bossing  the  ranch,"  she  went  on, 
her  voice  suddenly  one  of  cold  mockery,  "  what  is 
there  to  boss?  Some  dilapidated  buildings!  Of 
course  you  may  boss  those,  because  they  can't 
object.  But  you  can't  boss  me,  nor  grandfather, 
nor  Bob  —  because  we  won't  let  you!" 
[64] 


THE  FIRST  LESSON 


She  walked  away  from  the  table  and  went  to  a 
door  that  led  to  another  room,  standing  in  the 
opening  and  looking  back  at  Calumet,  who  still 
sat  at  the  table,  speechless  with  surprise. 

"Go  out  and  begin  your  bossing!"  she  jeered. 
"Very  likely  the  buildings  will  begin  to  dance 
around  at  your  bidding.  With  your  admirable 
persuasive  powers  you  ought  to  be  able  to  do 
wonders  with  them  in  the  matter  of  repairs.  Try 
it,  at  least.  But  if  they  refuse  to  be  repaired  at 
your  mere  word,  and  you  think  something  more 
substantial  is  needed,  then  come  to  me  —  perhaps 
I  may  help  you." 

She  bowed  mockingly  and  vanished  into  the 
other  room,  closing  the  door  behind  her,  leaving 
Calumet  glaring  into  his  plate. 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  painful  silence, 
which  Malcolm  broke  by  clearing  his  throat,  his 
gaze  on  the  tablecloth. 

"Sometimes  I  think  Betty's  a  little  fresh,"  he 
said,    apologetically.      "She's   sorta   sudden-like. | 
She  hadn't  ought  to — " 

He  looked  up  to  see  a  malevolent  scowl  on 
Calumet's  face,  and  he  ducked  by  the  narrowest 
of  margins  the  heavy  plate  that  flew  from  Calu 
met's  hand.     The  plate  struck  the  wall  and  was 
.[65] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

shattered  to  atoms.  Malcolm  crouched,  in  deadly 
fear  of  other  missiles,  but  Calumet  did  not  deign 
to  notice  him  further,  stalking  out  of  the  room 
and  slamming  the  door  behind  him. 


166] 


CHAPTER  VI 

"BOB" 

FIVE  minutes  after  leaving  the  kitchen  of  the 
ranchhouse  Calumet  stood  beside  the  rotted 
rails  of  the  corral  fence  near  the  stable,  frowning, 
fully  conscious  that  he  had  been  worsted  in  the 
verbal  battle  just  ended.  He  was  filled  with  a 
disagreeable  sense  of  impotence;  he  felt  small, 
mean,  cheap,  and  uncomfortable,  and  was 
oppressed  with  indecision.  In  short,  he  felt 
that  he  was  not  the  same  man  who  had  ridden 
up  to  the  Lazy  Y  ranchhouse  at  twilight  the 
night  before  —  in  twelve  hours  a  change  had  come 
over  him.  And  Betty  had  wrought  it.  He  knew 
that. 

Had  he  only  to  do  with  Malcolm  —  or  any  man, 
for  that  matter — there  would  have  been  no  doubt 
of  his  course.  He  would  have  hustled  out  Mal 
colm  or  any  other  man  long  before  this,  and  there 
would  have  been  an  end  to  it.  But  Betty  had 
made  it  quite  plain  to  him  that  she  did  not  purpose 
to  leave,  and,  since  he  had  had  little  experience 
[67] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

with  women,  he  was  decidedly  at  a  loss  to  discover 
a  way  to  deal  with  her.  That  he  could  not  rout 
her  by  force  was  certain,  for  he  could  not  lay 
hands  on  a  woman  in  violence,  and  he  was  by  no 
means  certain  that  he  wanted  her  to  leave,  because 
if  she  did  it  was  highly  probable  that  he  would 
never  get  his  hands  on  the  money  his  father  had 
left.  Of  course  he  could  search  for  the  money, 
but  there  came  to  his  mind  now  tales  of  treasure 
that  had  never  been  recovered,  and  he  was  reluc 
tant  to  take  any  chances.  On  the  other  hand,  he 
was  facing  the  maddening  prospect  of  living  for 
a  year  under  the  eyes  of  a  determined  young 
woman  who  was  to  be  the  sole  judge  of  his  con 
duct.  He  was  to  become  a  probationer  and  Betty 
was  to  watch  his  every  move. 

He  wondered,  making  a  wry  face  at  the  thought, 
whether  she  intended  to  record  his  actions  in  a 
book,  giving  him  marks  of  merit  or  demerit 
according  as  the  whim  struck  her?  In  that  case 
she  had  probably  already  placed  a  black  mark 
against  him,  perhaps  several. 

He  stood  long  beside  the  fence,  considering  the 

situation.     It  was  odd  to  the  point  of  unreality, 

but,  no  matter  how  odd,  it  was  a  situation  that  he 

must  face,  because  he  had  already  decided  to  stay 

[68] 


"BOB" 

and  make  an  attempt  to  get  the  money.  He  cer 
tainly  would  not  go  away  and  leave  it  to  Betty; 
he  would  not  give  her  that  satisfaction.  Nor 
did  he  intend  to  be  pliable  clay  in  her  hands,  to 
become  in  the  end  a  creature  of  her  shaping.  He 
would  stay,  but  he  would  be  himself,  and  he  would 
make  the  Claytons  rue  the  day  they  had  interfered 
in  his  affairs. 

Leaning  on  the  top  rail  of  the  fence,  his  gaze 
roved  over  the  sweep  of  valley,  dull  and  cheerless 
in  the  early  dawn,  with  a  misty  film  rising  up  out 
of  it  to  meet  and  mingle  and  evaporate  in  the  far- 
flung  colors  of  the  slow-rising  sun.  Once  his  gaze 
concentrated  on  a  spot  in  the  distance.  He  de 
tected  movement,  and  watched,  motionless,  until 
he  was  certain.  Half  a  mile  it  was  to  the  spot — 
a  low  hill,  crested  with  yucca,  sagebrush,  and 
octilla  —  and  he  saw  the  desert  weeds  move,  ob 
served  a  dark  form  slink  out  from  them  and  stand 
for  an  instant  on  the  skyline.  Wolf  or  coyote,  it 
was  too  far  for  him  to  be  certain,  but  he  watched 
it  with  a  sneer  until  it  slunk  down  into  the  tangle 
of  sage,  out  of  his  sight. 

He  presently  forgot  the  slinking  figure;  his 
thoughts  returned  to  Betty.  He  did  not  like  her, 
she  irritated  him.  For  a  woman  she  was  top 
[69] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

assertive,  too  belligerent  by  half.  Though  con 
sidering  her  now,  he  was  reluctantly  compelled  to 
admit  that  she  was  a  forceful  figure,  and,  review 
ing  the  conversation  he  had  had  with  her  a  few 
minutes  before,  the  picture  she  had  made  standing 
in  the  doorway  defying  him,  mocking  him,  rebuk 
ing  him,  he  could  not  repress  a  thrill  of  grudging 
admiration. 

For  half  an  hour  he  stood  at  the  corral  fence. 
He  rolled  and  smoked  three  cigarettes,  his 
thoughts  wrapped  in  memories  of  the  past  and 
revolving  the  problem  of  his  future.  Once  Betty 
stood  in  the  kitchen  door  for  fully  a  minute, 
watching  him  speculatively,  and  twice  old  Mal 
colm  passed  him  on  the  way  to  do  some  chore, 
eyeing  him  curiously.  Calumet  did  not  see  either 
of  them. 

Nor  did  he  observe  that  the  slinking  form 
which  he  had  observed  moving  among  the 
weeds  on  the  distant  hill  in  the  valley  had  ap 
proached  to  within  twenty  yards  of  him,  was 
crouching  in  a  corner  of  the  corral  fence,  watch 
ing  him  with  blazing,  blood-shot  eyes,  its  dull 
gray  hair  bristling,  its  white  fangs  bared  in  a 
snarl. 

It  had  been  a  long  stalk,  and  the  beast's  jaws 


"BOB" 

were  slavering  from  exertion.  It  watched,  crouch 
ing  and  panting,  for  a  favorable  moment  to  make 
the  attack  which  it  meditated. 

It  had  seen  Calumet  from  the  hill  and  had 
dropped  down  to  the  level,  keeping  out  of  sight 
behind  the  sagebrush  and  the  clumps  of  mesquite, 
crossing  the  open  places  on  its  belly,  stealing  upon 
him  silently  and  cunningly.  So  cautious  had  been 
its  approach  that  old  Malcolm  had  not  seen  it 
when  fifteen  minutes  before  he  had  passed  Calu 
met  and  had  paused  for  a  look  at  him.  The  beast 
had  been  in  a  far  corner  of  the  fence  then,  and 
had  slunk  close  to  the  ground  until  Malcolm  had 
passed.  Nor  had  Malcolm  seen  it  just  a  moment 
before  when  he  had  crossed  the  ranchhouse  yard 
behind  Calumet  to  go  to  the  bunkhouse,  where  he 
was  now.  The  instant  Malcolm  had  disappeared 
within  the  bunkhouse,  the  beast  had  stolen  to  its 
present  position. 

The  attack  was  swift  and  silent.  Calumet  was 
puffing  abstractedly  at  a  cigarette  when  he  became 
aware  of  a  rush  of  air  as  the  gray  shape  flashed 
up  from  the  ground.  Calumet  dodged  involun 
tarily,  throwing  up  an  arm  to  fend  off  the  shape, 
which  catapulted  past  him,  shoulder-high.  The 
beast  had  aimed  for  his  throat;  his  long  fangs 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

met  the  upthrust  arm  and  sank  into  it,  crunching 
it  to  the  bone. 

The  force  of  the  attack  threw  Calumet  against 
the  corral  fence.  The  beast  struck  the  ground 
beyond  him  noiselessly,  its  legs  asprawl,  its  hair 
bristling  from  rage.  Ten  feet  beyond  Calumet  the 
force  of  its  attack  carried  it,  and  it  whirled  swiftly, 
to  leap  again. 

But  Calumet  was  not  to  be  surprised  the  second 
time.  Standing  at  the  fence,  his  eyes  ablaze  with 
hatred  and  pain,  he  crouched.  As  the  beast 
leaped  Calumet's  hand  moved  at  his  hip,  his 
heavy  six-shooter  crashed  spitefully,  its  roar  re 
verberating  among  the  buildings  and  startling  the 
two  gaunt  horses  in  the  corral  to  movement.  The 
gray  beast  snarled,  crumpled  midway  in  its  leap, 
and  dropped  at  Calumet's  feet.  A  dark  patch  on 
its  chest  just  belowp  the  throat  showed  where  the 
bullet  had  gone.  But  apparently  the  bullet  had 
missed  a  vital  spot,  for  the  beast  struggled  to  its 
feet,  dragging  itself  toward  Calumet,  its  fangs 
slashing  impotently. 

Calumet  stepped  back  a  pace,  his  face  malig 
nant  with  rage  and  hate,  his  eyes  gleaming  venge- 
fully.  He  heard  a  scream  from  somewhere  —  a 
shrill  protest  in  a  voice  which  he  did  not  recognize, 
[72] 


"BOB" 

but  he  paid  no  attention  to  it  until  he  had  delib 
erately  emptied  his  six-shooter  into  the  beast, 
putting  the  bullets  where  they  would  do  the  most 
good.  When  the  weapon  was  emptied  and  the 
beast  lay  prone  in  the  dust  at  his  feet,  its  great 
jaws  agape  and  dripping  with  blood-flecked  foam, 
Calumet  turned  and  looked  up. 

He  saw  Malcolm  Clayton  come  out  of  the  bunk- 
house  door,  and  noticed  Betty  running  toward  him 
from  the  ranchhouse.  Betty's  sleeves  were  rolled 
to  the  elbows,  her  apron  fluttering  the  wind,  and 
the  thought  struck  Calumet  that  she  must  have 
been  washing  dishes  when  interrupted  by  the 
shooting.  But  it  was  not  she  who  had  screamed  — 
he  would  have  recognized  her  voice.  Then  he 
saw  a  huddled  figure  leaning  against  the  corner 
of  the  stable  nearest  the  ranchhouse;  the  figure  of 
a  boy  of  twelve  or  thirteen.  He  had  a  withered, 
mis-shapen  leg  —  the  right  one;  and  under  his 
right  arm,  partly  supporting  him,  was  a  crude 
crutch.  The  boy  was  facing  Calumet,  and  at  the 
instant  the  latter  saw  him  he  looked  up,  his  pale, 
thin  face  drawn  and  set,  his  eyes  filled  with  an 
expression  of  reproach  and  horror. 

He  was  not  over  fifteen  feet  distant  from  Calu 
met,  and  the  latter  watched  him  with  a  growing 

[73] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  7 

curiosity  until  Betty  ran  to  him  and  folded  him 
into  her  arms.  Then  Calumet  began  to  reload 
his  six-shooter,  ignoring  Malcolm,  who  had  come 
close  to  him  and  was  standing  beside  the  corral 
fence,  breathing  heavily  and  trembling  from 
excitement. 

"  It's  Lonesome ! "  gasped  Malcolm,  his  lips 
quivering  as  he  looked  at  the  beast;  "Bob's 
Lonesome ! " 

Calumet  flashed  around  at  him,  cursing 
savagely. 

"What  you  gettin'  at,  you  damned  old  go 
pher?"  he  sneered. 

"  It's  Lonesome ! "  repeated  Malcolm,  his 
weather-lined  face  red  with  resentment  and  anger. 
He  showed  no  fear  of  Calumet  now,  but  came 
close  to  him  and  stood  rigid,  his  hands  clenched. 
"It's  Lonesome!"  he  repeated  shrilly;  "Bob's 
Lonesome !  "  And  then,  seeing  from  the  expres 
sion  of  Calumet's  face  that  he  did  not  compre 
hend,  he  added:  "It's  Bob's  dog,  Lonesome! 
Bob  loved  him  so,  an'  now  you've  gone  an'  killed 
him  —  you  —  you  hellhound!  You — " 

His  quavering  voice  was  cut  short;  once  more 
his  throat  felt  the  terrible  pressure  of  Calumet's 
iron  fingers.  For  an  instant  he  was  held  at  arm's 
[74] 


"BOB" 

length,  shaken  savagely,  and  in  the  next  he  was 
flung  with  furious  force  against  the  corral  fence, 
from  whence  he  staggered  and  fell  into  a  corner. 

Calumet  turned  from  him  to  confront  Betty. 
Her  eyes  were  ablaze,  and  one  hand  rested  with 
unconscious  affection  on  Bob's  head  as  the  boy 
stood  looking  down  at  the  body  of  the  dog, 
sobbing  quietly.  Betty  was  trying  to  keep  her 
composure,  but  at  her  first  words  her  voice 
trembled. 

"  So  you've  killed  Lonesome,"  she  said. 

Calumet  had  finished  reloading  his  pistol,  and 
he  folded  his  arms  over  his  chest,  deliberately 
shielding  the  left,  which  Lonesome  had  bitten, 
thus  hiding  the  red  patches  that  showed  on  the 
shirt  sleeve  over  the  wound.  He  would  not  give 
Betty  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  that  he  had  been 
hurt. 

"  Lonesome,"  explained  Betty,  frigidly,  "  was  a 
dog  —  he  was  Bob's  dog.  Bob  loved  him.  I  sup 
pose  you  didn't  know  that  —  you  couldn't  have 
known.  We  believed  him  to  be  part  wolf.  Bob 
found  him  on  the  Lazette  trail,  where  he  had 
evidently  been  left  behind,  probably  forgotten, 
by  some  traveler  who  had  camped  there.  Bob 
brought  him  home  and  raised  him.  He  has  never 
[75] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

been  known  to  exhibit  any  vicious  traits.  You 
were  born  in  the  West,"  she  went  on,  "  and  ought 
to  be  able  to  tell  the  difference  between  a  dog  and 
a  wolf.  Did  you  take  Lonesome  for  a  wolf?'* 

"  I  reckon,"  sneered  Calumet,  determined  not 
to  be  lectured  by  her,  "  that  I've  got  to  give  a 
reason  for  everything  I  do  around  here.  Even  to 
killin'  a  damn  dog!  " 

"Then,"  she  said  with  cold  contempt,  "you 
killed  him  in  pure  wantonness?" 

It  was  plain  to  Calumet  that  she  was  badly 
hurt  over  the  dog's  death.  Certainly,  despite  her 
cold  composure,  she  must  be  Died  with  rage 
against  him  for  killing  the  animal.  He  might 
now  have  exhibited  his  arm,  to  confound  her  with 
the  evidence  of  his  innocence  of  wantonness,  and 
very  probably  she  would  have  been  instantly  re 
morseful.  But  he  had  no  such  intention;  he  was 
keenly  alive  to  his  opportunity  to  show  her  that 
he  was  answerable  to  no  one  for  his  conduct.  He 
enjoyed  her  chagrin;  he  was  moved  to  internal 
mirth  over  her  impotent  wrath;  he  took  a  savage 
delight  in  seeing  her  cringe  from  the  evidence  of 
his  apparent  brutality.  He  grinned  at  her. 

"He's  dead,  ain't  he?"  he  said.     "An'  I  ain't 
makin'  no  excuses  to  you!" 
[76] 


"BOB" 

She  gave  him  a  scornful  glance  and  went  over 
to  Malcolm,  who  had  clambered  to  his  feet  and 
was  crouching,  his  face  working  with  passion.  At 
the  instant  Betty  reached  him  he  was  clawing  at 
his  six-shooter,  trying  to  drag  it  from  the  holster. 
But  Betty's  hand  closed  over  his  and  he  desisted. 

"  Not  that,  grandpa,"  she  said  quietly.  "  Shoot 
ing  won't  bring  Lonesome  back.  Besides"  —  she 
turned  toward  Calumet  and  saw  the  cold  grin  on 
his  face  as  his  right  hand  dropped  to  his  hip  in 
silent  preparation  for  Malcolm's  menacing  move 
ment —  "don't  you  see  that  he  would  shoot  you 
as  he  shot  Lonesome?  He  just  can't  help  being 
a  brute!" 

She  turned  her  back  to  Calumet  and  spoke  in 
a  low  voice  to  her  grandfather,  smoothing  his 
hair,  patting  his  shoulders  —  calming  him  with  all 
a  woman's  gentle  artifices.  And  Calumet  stood 
watching  her,  marveling  at  her  self-control,  feel 
ing  again  that  queer,  thrilling  sensation  of  reluc 
tant  admiration. 

He  had  forgotten  Bob.  Betty  had  left  the  boy 
standing  alone  when  she  had  gone  over  to  Mal 
colm,  and  Bob  had  hobbled  forward  when  Calu 
met  had  turned  to  follow  the  girl's  movements,  so 
that  now  he  stood  just  behind  Calumet.  The  latter 

[77] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  7 

became  aware  of  the  boy's  presence  when  the 
latter  seized  his  left  hand  from  behind,  and  he 
turned  with  a  snarl,  his  six-shooter  half  drawn,  to 
I  confront  the  boy,  whose  grip  on  the  hand  had  not 
>  been  loosened.  Calumet  drew  the  hand  fiercely 
away,  overturning  Bob  so  that  he  fell  sprawling 
into  the  dust  at  his  feet.  The  youngster  was  up 
again  before  Betty  and  Malcolm  could  reach  him, 
hobbling  toward  Calumet,  his  thin  face  working 
from  excitement,  his  big  eyes  alight  over  the 
discovery  he  had  made. 

"  He  didn't  kill  Lonesome  because  he  is  mean, 
Betty!"  he  shrilled;  "I  knew  he  didn't!  Look 
at  his  arm,  Betty!  It's  all  bloody!  Lonesome 
bit  him ! " 

In  spite  of  Calumet's  efforts  to  avoid  him,  the 
boy  again  seized  the  arm,  holding  it  out  so  that 
Betty  and  Malcolm  could  see  the  patches  on  the 
sleeve  and  the  thin  red  streak  that  had  crawled 
down  over  the  back  of  his  hand  and  was  dripping 
'from  the  finger  tips. 

Malcolm  halted  in  his  advance  on  Calumet  and 
stealthily  sheathed  his  weapon.  Betty,  too,  had 
stopped,  a  sudden  wave  of  color  overspreading 
her  face,  the  picture  of  embarrassment  and 
astonishment. 


"BOB" 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  us?"  she  asked  accus 
ingly;  "it  would  have  saved — " 

"  Saved  you  from  makin'  a  fool  of  yourself," 
interrupted  Calumet.  "You  certainly  did  prove 
that  I'm  a  mighty  mean  man,"  he  added,  mock 
ingly.  "  I  didn't  tell  you  because  it's  none  of  your 
business.  It's  only  a  scratch,  but  I  ain't  lettin'  no 
damned  animal  chaw  me  up  an'  get  away  with  it." 
He  drew  the  hand  away  from  the  boy  and  placed 
it  behind  him  so  that  Betty  could  not  look  at  it, 
which  she  had  been  doing  until  now,  with  wide, 
frightened  eyes.  She  came  forward  when  he 
placed  the  hand  behind  him,  and  stood  close  to 
him,  determination  in  her  manner. 

"  I  want  to  see  how  badly  you  have  been  bit 
ten,"  she  said. 

"  Go  finish  washin'  your  dishes,"  he  advised, 
with  a  sneer.  "  That's  where  you  belong.  Until 
you  an'  your  bunch  butted  in  with  your  palaver 
I  was  enjoyin'  myself.  You  drive  me  plumb 
weary." 

Betty  faced  him  resolutely,  though  now  there 
was  contrition  in  her  manner,  in  her  voice.  She 
spoke  firmly. 

"I  am  sorry  for  what  I  said  to  you  before  — 
about  Lonesome.  I  thought  you  had  killed  him 
[79] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  7 

just  to  be  mean,  to  hurt  me.  I  will  try  to  make 
amends.  If  you  will  come  into  the  house  I  will 
dress  your  arm  —  it  must  be  badly  injured." 

Calumet's  lips  curled,  then  straightened,  and  he 
looked  down  at  her  with  steady  hostility. 

"  I  ain't  got  no  truck  with  you  at  all,"  he  said. 
"  When  I'm  figgerin'  on  lettin'  you  paw  over  me 
I'll  let  you  know."  He  turned  shortly  and  walked 
over  to  the  door  of  the  stable,  where  he  fumbled 
at  the  fastenings,  presently  swinging  the  door 
open  and  vanishing  inside.  Five  minutes  later, 
when  he  came  out  with  the  pony  saddled  and 
bridled,  he  found  that  Betty  and  Malcolm  had 
gone.  But  Bob  stood  over  the  dead  body  of 
Lonesome,  silently  weeping. 

For  a  moment,  standing  beside  his  pony,  Calu 
met  watched  the  boy,  and  as  he  stood  a  queer 
pallor  overspread  his  face  and  his  lips  tightened 
oddly.  For  something  in  the  boy's  appearance, 
in  the  idea  of  his  exhibition  of  grief  over  his 
dog,  which  Malcolm  had  said  he  loved,  smote 
Calumet's  heart.  As  he  continued  to  watch, 
his  set  lips  moved  strangely,  and  his  eyes  glit 
tered  with  a  light  that  they  had  not  yet  known. 
Twice  he  started  toward  the  boy,  and  twice  he 
changed  his  mind  and  returned  to  his  pony  to 
[80] 


"BOB" 

continue  his  vigil.  The  boy  was  unaware  of  his 
presence. 

The  third  time  Calumet  reached  his  side,  and 
the  big  rough  palm  of  his  right  hand  was  laid 
gently  on  the  boy's  head. 

"  I  reckon  I'm  sorry,  you  damned  little  cuss," 
he  said  huskily  as  the  youngster  looked  up  into 
his  face.  "  If  I'd  have  knowed  that  he  was  your 
dog  I'd  have  let  him  chaw  my  arm  off  before  I'd 
have  shot  him." 

The  boy's  eyes  glowed  with  gratitude.  Then 
they  sought  the  body  of  Lonesome.  When  he 
looked  up  again  Calumet  was  on  his  pony,  riding 
slowly  past  the  bunkhouse.  The  boy  watched  him 
until  he  rode  far  out  into  the  valley. 


[81] 


CHAPTER  VII 

F 

A   PAGE    FROM  THE   PAST 

DARKNESS  had  fallen  when  Calumet  re- 
turned  to  the  Lazy  Y.  He  had  passed  the 
day  riding  over  the  familiar  ranges,  returning  to 
almost  forgotten  spots,  reviving  the  life  of  his 
youth  and  finding  the  memories  irksome.  He  was 
in  no  pleasant  frame  of  mind  when  he  rode  in, 
and  he  disdained  the  use  of  the  corral  or  the 
stable,  staking  his  horse  out  in  the  pasture,  re 
membering  the  scant  supply  of  grain  in  the  bin  in 
the  stable,  and  telling  himself  that  "them  two 
skates"  —  referring  to  the  horses  he  had  seen  in 
the  corral  —  "need  it  worse  than  Blackleg,"  his 
own  pony. 

After  staking  Blackleg  out,  he  took  the  saddle 
and  bridle  from  the  animal  and  stalked  toward 
the  ranchhouse.  A  light  burned  on  the  kitchen 
table.  He  saw  it  from  a  distance  and  resisted 
an  impulse  to  enter  the  house  from  the  kitchen, 
walking,  instead,  around  to  the  front,  where  he 
found  the  door  to  the  office  unbarred.  He  threw 
[82] 


A  PAGE  FROM  THE  PAST 

the  saddle  into  a  corner,  lighted  the  candle  that 
still  stood  on  the  desk  where  he  had  placed  it  the 
night  before,  and  stood  for  a  long  time  in  its 
glare,  examining  the  ragged  gashes  on  his  arm. 
Twice  during  the  day  he  had  washed  the  wounds 
with  water  secured  from  the  river,  binding  the 
arm  with  a  handkerchief;  but  he  noted  with  a 
scowl  that  the  arm  was  swollen  and  the  wound 
inflamed.  He  finally  rewound  the  bandage,  tieing 
the  ends  securely.  Then  he  stood  erect  beside  the 
desk,  listening  and  undecided. 

No  sound  reached  his  ears.    The  Claytons,  he 
assured  himself,  must  have  retired. 

He  walked  over  to  the  sofa  and  sat  upon  it, 
frowning.  He  was  hungry,  having  been  without 
food  since  morning,  and  he  found  himself  wonder 
ing  if  he  might  not  find  food  in  the  kitchen. 
Obeying  an  impulse,  he  got  up  from  the  sofa  and 
went  to  the  door  through  which  Betty  had  entered 
the  night  before,  noting  that  it  was  still  barred  as 
he  had  left  it  that  morning.  He  carefully  re 
moved  the  fastenings  and  swung  the  door  open, 
intending  to  go  into  the  kitchen.  He  halted  on 
the  threshold,  however,  for  beside  a  table  in  the 
dining  room,  in  the  feeble  glare  of  a  light  that 
stood  at  her  elbow,  sat  Betty,  reading  a  book. 
[83] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

She  looked  up  as  the  door  opened,  betraying 
no  surprise,  smiling  mildly,  and  speaking  as  she 
might  have  spoken  had  she  been  addressing  a 
friend. 

"Won't  you  come  in?" 

She  placed  the  book  down,  sticking  a  piece  of 
paper  between  the  leaves  to  mark  her  place,  and 
stood  up. 

"I  have  been  waiting  for  you.  I  heard 
you  come  in.  I  expected  you  for  supper,  and 
when  you  didn't  come  I  saved  yours.  If  you 
will  come  out  into  the  kitchen  I  will  get  it  for 
you." 

Calumet  did  not  move.  Had  Betty  shown  the 
slightest  dismay  or  perturbation  at  sight  of  him 
he  would  not  have  hesitated  an  instant  in  walking 
past  her  to  get  the  food  which  she  had  said  was 
in  the  kitchen.  But  her  easy  unconcern,  her  cool 
assumption  of  proprietorship,  aroused  in  him  that 
obstinacy  which  the  revelation  of  her  power  over 
him  had  brought  into  being.  He  did  not  purpose 
to  allow  her  to  lead  him  to  anything. 

"I  don't  reckon  I'll  grub,"  he  said. 

"Then  of  course  you  have  been  to  Lazette," 
she  returned.  "You  had  dinner  there." 

"Look  here,"  he  said  truculently;  "does  it 
[84] 


A  PAGE  FROM  THE  PAST 

make  any  difference  to  you  where  I've  been  or 
what  I've  done?" 

"Perhaps  it  really  doesn't  make  any  differ 
ence,"  she  answered  calmly;  "but  of  course  I  am 
interested.  I  don't  want  you  to  starve." 

His  face  expressed  disgust.  "Holy  smoke!" 
he  said;  "I  reckon  I  ain't  man  enough  to  take 
care  of  myself !" 

"  I  don't  think  that  is  the  question.  Can't  we 
get  at  it  in  the  proper  spirit?  You  belong  here; 
you  have  a  right  to  be  here.  And  I  am  here 
because  your  father  wanted  me  to  stay.  I  want 
you  to  feel  that  you  are  at  home,  and  I  don't 
want  to  be  continually  quarreling  with  you.  Be 
mean  and  stubborn  if  you  want  to  —  I  suppose 
you  can't  help  that.  But  so  long  as  conditions  are 
as  they  are,  let  us  try  to  make  the  best  of  them. 
Even  if  you  don't  like  me,  even  if  you  resent  my 
presence  here,  you  can  at  least  act  more  like  a 
human  being  and  less  like  a  wild  man.  Why," 
she  continued,  with  a  dry  laugh,  "just  now  you 
spoke  of  being  a  man,  and  this  morning  after 
you  killed  Lonesome  you  acted  like  a  big,  over 
grown  boy.  You  had  your  arm  hurt  and  refused 
to  allow  me  to  dress  it.  Did  you  think  I  wanted 
to  poison  you?" 

[85] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"What  I  thought  this  morning  is  my  business," 
returned  Calumet  gruffly.  Betty's  voice  had  been 
quietly  conversational,  but  it  had  carried  a  subtle 
sting  with  its  direct  mockery,  and  Calumet  felt 
again  as  he  had  felt  the  night  before,  like  an 
unruly  scholar  being  rebuked  by  his  teacher.  Last 
night,  though,  the  situation  had  been  a  novel  one ; 
now  the  thought  that  she  was  laughing  at  him, 
taunting  him,  filled  him  with  rage. 

"  Mebbe  you'll  be  interested  in  knowin'  what  I 
think  right  now,"  he  said.  "  It's  this :  you've  got 
a  bad  case  of  swelled  head.  You're  one  of  them 
kind  of  female  critters  which  want  to  run  things 
their  own  way.  You're — " 

Her  laugh  interrupted  him.  "We  won't  argue 
that  again,  if  you  please.  If  you  remember,  you 
had  something  to  say  on  that  subject  last  night, 
and  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  haven't  the  slight 
est  desire  to  hear  your  opinion  of  me.  Won't  you 
sit  down?"  She  invited  again,  motioning  to  a 
chair  beside  the  table,  opposite  hers.  "  If  you 
absolutely  refuse  to  eat,  I  presume  there  is  no 
help  for  it,  though  even  if  you  had  dinner  in 
Lazette  you  must  be  hungry  now,  for  a  ride  of 
twenty  miles  is  a  strict  guarantee  of  appetite. 
Please  sit  down.  There  is  something  I  want  to 
[86] 


A  PAGE  FROM  THE  PAST 

give  you,  something  your  father  left  for  you.  He 
told  me  to  have  you  read  it  as  soon  as  you  came." 

She  stood  motionless  until  Calumet  left  the  door 
and  seated  himself  in  the  chair  beside  the  table, 
and  then  she  went  out  of  the  room;  he  could  hear 
her  steps  on  the  stairs.  She  returned  quickly  and 
laid  a  bulky  envelope  on  the  table  beside  him. 

"  Here  it  is,"  she  said. 

As  Calumet  took  up  the  envelope  and  tore  it 
open  she  dropped  into  the  other  chair,  took  up 
her  book,  opened  it,  and  settled  herself  to  read. 
Calumet  watched  her  covertly  for  a  moment,  and 
then  gave  his  attention  to  the  contents  of  the 
envelope. 

There  were  a  number  of  sheets  of  paper  on 
which  Calumet  recognized  his  father's  hand 
writing. 

"My  SON:  —  Feeling  that  I  am  about  to  die, 
it  is  my  desire  to  do  what  I  can  toward  setting 
things  right  between  us.  Betty  Clayton  will  tell 
you  that  I  have  repented  of  my  treatment  of  you, 
but  she  cannot  tell  you  how  deep  is  the  realization 
of  the  injury  I  have  done  you  through  my  inhuman 
attitude  toward  you.  I  fear  that  I  have  ruined 
your  character  and  that  it  may  be  too  late  to  save 
[87] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  7 

you  from  those  passions  which,  if  not  checked, 
will  spoil  your  life. 

"  I  know  that  children  sometimes  inherit  the 
evil  that  has  abided  with  their  parents,  and  I  am 
certain  that  you  have  inherited  mine,  because  while 
you  stayed  at  home  I  saw  many  evidences  of 
it,  aye,  I  used  to  delight  in  its  manifestation. 
Toward  the  end  of  your  stay  at  home  I  grew  to 
hate  you.  But  it  was  because  of  that  woman. 
If  ever  there  was  an  evil  spirit  in  the  guise  of  a 
human  being,  it  was  she.  She  —  well,  you  will 
learn  more  of  her  later. 

"  I  am  going  to  try  at  this  late  day  to  repair 
the  damage  I  did  you.  I  have  come  to  the  con 
clusion  that  the  surest  way  to  do  this  is  to  force 
you  to  give  me  in  death  that  respect  and  venera 
tion  which  you  refused  me  while  I  lived.  You 
see  that,  in  spite  of  my  boasted  repentance,  I  still 
have  left  a  spark  of  satanic  irony,  and  I  do  not 
expect  you  to  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I 
have  planned  this  for  your  own  good.  But  it 
seems  to  me  that  if  you  can  exhibit  respect  for 
the  one  who  is  directly  responsible  for  your  cursed 
passions  you  will  be  able  to  govern  them  on  all 
occasions.  That  is  my  conviction,  and  if  you  do 
not  agree  with  me  there  is  no  hope  for  you. 
[88] 


A  PAGE  FROM  THE  PAST 

"  Betty  Clayton  will  tell  you  the  conditions,  and 
she  will  be  your  judge.  I  believe  in  Betty,  and  if 
you  do  not  see  that  she  is  a  true-blue  girl  you  are 
more  of  a  fool  than  I  think  you  are." 

At  this  point  Calumet  glanced  sidelong  at  Betty, 
but  she  seemed  engrossed  in  her  book,  and  he 
resumed  reading. 

"That  is  all  I  have  to  say  on  that  subject.  You 
will  have  to  look  to  Betty  for  additions.  By  this 
time,  if  she  has  carried  out  my  wishes,  she  has 
told  you  what  you  may  expect.  I  have  told  her 
the  story  which  I  am  going  to  tell  you,  and  I  am 
certain  that  when  you  have  finished  it  you  will  see 
that  I  am  not  entirely  to  blame.  You  will  see,  too, 
what  havoc  Tom  Taggart  has  wrought  in  my  life ; 
why  he  has  tried  many  times  to  kill  me.  Calumet, 
beware  of  the  Taggarts !  For  the  last  five  years 
they  have  been  a  constant  menace  to  me;  I  have 
been  forced  to  be  on  my  guard  against  them  day 
and  night.  They  have  hounded  me,  induced  my 
men  to  betray  me.  In  five  years  I  have  not  slept 
soundly  because  of  them.  But  I  have  foiled  them. 
I  am  dying  now,  and  that  which  they  seek  will  be 
hidden  until  you  fulfill  the  conditions  which  I 
impose  on  you.  I  know  you  are  coming  home  — 
[89] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

I  can  feel  it  —  and  I  know  that  when  you  read 
what  is  to  follow  you  will  be  eager  to  square  my 
account  with  Tom  Taggart. 

"  Before  going  any  further,  before  you  read 
my  story,  I  want  you  to  know  that  the  cursed 
virago  whom  you  saw  buried  in  the  cottonwood 
was  not  your  real  mother.  Your  mother  died 
giving  you  birth,  and  her  body  lies  in  a  quiet  spot 
beside  the  Rio  Pecos,  at  Twin  Pine  crossing, 
about  ten  miles  north  of  the  Texas  border.  God 
rest  her." 

Again  Calumet  glanced  at  Betty.  She  wa& 
reading,  apparently  unconscious  of  him,  and 
without  disturbing  her  Calumet  laid  down  the 
finished  page  and  took  up  another. 


[90] 


CHAPTER  VIII 

t 

THE    TOLTEC    IDOL 

'T  WAS  twenty-five  when  your  mother  died," 
A  this  page  began.  "  I  had  a  little  ranch  in 
the  Pecos  valley  near  Twin  Pine  crossing,  and  I 
had  just  begun  to  taste  prosperity.  After  your 
mother  died  things  began  to  go  wrong.  It  didn't 
take  me  long  to  conclude  that  she  had  been  respon 
sible  for  what  success  I  had  had,  and  that  without 
her  I  couldn't  hope  to  keep  things  together.  I 
didn't  try  very  hard;  I'll  admit  that.  I  just  grad 
ually  let  go  all  holds  and  began  to  slip  —  began 
to  drift  back  into  the  sort  of  company  I'd  kept 
before  I  met  your  mother.  They  were  not  bad 
fellows,  you  understand  —  just  the  rakehelly,  reck 
less  sort  that  keep  hanging  on  to  the  edge  of 
things  and  making  a  living  by  their  wits.  I'd 
come  West  without  any  definite  idea  of  what  I 
wanted  to  do,  and  I  fell  in  with  these  men  natu 
rally  and  easily,  because  they  were  of  my  type. 

"I  had  three  intimates  among  them  —  a  tall, 
clean-limbed  fellow  with  the  bluest  and  steadiest 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

eyes  I  ever  saw  in  a  man,  who  called  himself 
1  Nebraska  ' ;  a  rangy  Texan  named  Quint  Taylor, 
who  maintained  that  manual  labor  was  a  curse 
and  quoted  the  Scriptures  to  prove  it;  and  Tom 
Taggart.  Tom  and  I  were  thick.  I  liked  him, 
and  he'd  done  things  for  me  that  seemed  to  prove 
that  he  thought  a  lot  of  me.  He  didn't  like  it  a 
little  bit  when  I  married  your  mother  —  her  name 
was  Mary  Lannon,  and  I'd  got  acquainted  with 
her  while  riding  for  a  few  months  for  her  father, 
who  owned  a  ranch  near  Eagle  Pass,  close  to  the 
Rio  Grande.  She  was  white,  boy,  and  so  were 
her  folks,  and  you  can  be  proud  of  her.  And  if 
she  had  lived  you  could  be  proud  of  me  —  she'd 
have  kept  on  making  me  a  man. 

"Taggart  didn't  like  the  idea  of  me  getting 
hooked  up.  He  didn't  want  to  break  up  the  old 
associations.  He  and  the  others  hung  around  for 
a  year,  waiting  for  something  to  turn  up,  and 
when  your  mother  died  it  wasn't  long  before  I 
was  back  with  them.  I  left  you  in  care  of  Jane 
Connor — her  husband,  Dave,  owned  the  Dia 
mond  Dot  ranch,  which  adjoined  mine. 

"  During  the  year  the  boys  had  been  knocking 
around  without  me  they'd  fallen  in  with  an  Indian 
from  Yucatan,  from  the  tribe  called  the  Toltecs. 
[92] 


THE  TOLTEC  IDOL 


tThis  Indian  called  himself  Queza  —  he'd  been 
exiled  because  he  was  too  lazy  to  work.  The 
boys  got  him  drunk  one  night,  and  he  blabbed 
everything  he  knew  about  his  tribe  —  how  rich  it 
was;  how  they'd  discovered  a  diamond  mine,  and 
that  gold  was  so  common  that  they  used  it  to 
make  household  ornaments.  His  story  got  the 
boys  excited  and  they  pumped  him  dry.  They 
found  out  where  his  tribe  lived,  how  to  get  there, 
and  all  that. 

"  Queza  told  them  that  the  diamonds  wouldn't 
be  hard  to  get,  that  there  were  altar  idols  and 
ornaments  in  a  big  cave  which  was  hollowed  out 
of  the  face  of  a  rock  cliff,  and  that  there  was  a 
bridge  over  to  it,  and  that  the  cave  wasn't  guarded 
because  the  tribe  had  a  superstitious  fear  of  the 
priests  who  had  charge  of  the  idols  and  things, 
and  that  the  people  didn't  care  for  gold  and 
diamonds,  anyway,  because  they  were  so  common. 

"The  boys  had  got  all  this  out  of  Queza  about 
a  month  before  I  sold  out  and  joined  them,  and 
they'd  rustled  some  money  somewhere,  and  had 
everything  fixed  up  to  go  to  Yucatan  to  bring 
home  some  of  that  gold  and  diamonds.  They 
wanted  me  to  go  along.  I  was  in  that  frame  of 
mind  in  which  I  didn't  care  much  about  what 
[93] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

happened  to  me,  and  they  didn't  have  to  argue 
long.  We  dropped  down  the  Rio  Grande  to  a 
little  place  on  the  Gulf  coast  near  where  Browns 
ville  is  now.  We  bought  a  little  boat  from  a 
fisherman  —  she  wasn't  more  than  thirty  feet 
•long  and  didn't  look  like  she  could  stand  much 
weather;  but  Nebraska,  who'd  told  us  that  he'd 
done  a  little  sailing  on  the  California  coast  when 
he  was  a  lot  younger  than  he  was  then,  said  she'd 
stand  anything  we  was  likely  to  get  in  the  Gulf. 
So  we  stocked  her  with  provisions  and  water  to 
last  a  month  or  so,  and  Nebraska  pointed  her  nose 
toward  Yucatan. 

"  I  didn't  think  then  what  a  rank  job  it  was 
that  we  were  going  to  do,  but  it  won't  do  me  any 
harm  in  your  eyes  to  say  that  after  we'd  got 
started  and  I  began  to  realize  what  it  all  meant, 
I  was  ashamed.  I  felt  like  a  sneak  and  a  coward 
all  through  the  deal,  but  I  couldn't  back  out  after 
I'd  started,  and  so  I  went  through  with  it. 

"  We  run  into  a  spell  of  bad  weather  and  had 
to  hug  the  coast  mighty  close,  and  it  was  two 
weeks  before  we  pulled  into  Campeche  Bay,  on 
the  northwest  coast  of  Yucatan.  We  worked  the 
boat  about  half  a  mile  up  a  little  creek  four  or  five 
miles  south  of  Campeche,  and  worked  half  a  day 
[94] 


THE  TOLTEC  IDOL 


hiding  her,  so  that  she'd  be  there  when  we  got 
back.  Then,  taking  what  grub  was  left,  we  struck 
out  for  the  interior.  It  won't  be  any  use  telling 
you  about  that  journey  —  you  couldn't  imagine, 
and  I  couldn't  begin  to  tell  you,  what  a  miserable, 
slow,  tortuous  affair  it  was.  It  gets  hot  in  New 
Mexico,  but  we  got  a  taste  of  hell  in  that  Yucatan 
jungle.  That  country  wasn't  built  for  a  white 
man. 

"  So  I'm  not  going  to  try  to  tell  you  about  the 
trip.  We  were  tough  and  eager,  and  we  stuck 
it  out,  traveling  mostly  by  night,  setting  our  course 
by  the  stars,  about  which  I  knew  something.  But 
we  were  a  week  going  a  hundred  miles,  and  we 
were  beginning  to  get  into  that  frame  of  mind 
where  we  were  noticing  one  another's  faults  and 
getting  not  a  bit  backward  in  talking  about  them, 
when  one  night  at  dusk  we  got  a  glimpse  of  the 
place  we  were  looking  for. 

"  Queza  had  called  the  place  a  town,  and  maybe 
that  name  fits  it  as  well  as  another.  It  made  me 
dizzy  to  look  at  it.  We'd  been  climbing  the  slope 
of  a  mountain  all  afternoon  —  traveling  in  the 
daytime  now,  because  we  were  getting  near  the 
end  of  our  journey  —  Nebraska  in  the  lead,  the 
rest  trailing  him.  We  saw  Nebraska"* stop  and 

[95] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

duck  back  into  some  brush.     Then  we  all  sneaked 
up  to  him  and  got  our  first  look  at  the  town. 

"  It  looked  to  me  as  though  the  place  had  been 
made  to  hide  in.  The  mountain  dropped  away 
below  us,  straight  down  about  a  hundred  feet,  a 
smooth  rock  wall.  Another  wall  of  rock  joined 
It  on  the  right,  making  a  big  L.  There  was  a 
level  that  began  at  the  two  walls  and  extended 
both  ways  for  probably  half  a  mile,  until  it  met 
the  slope  of  the  other  side  of  the  mountain.  It 
was  nothing  but  two  shoulders,  joined,  on  the  top 
of  the  mountain. 

"Just  below  us  there  was  a  break  in  the  level  — 
a  wide  gash  about  fifty  feet  across,  so  deep  that 
we  couldn't  see  the  bottom.  There  was  a  ledge 
on  our  side  about  three  or  four  feet  wide,  and  a 
bridge  stretched  from  it  across  the  canyon.  We 
decided  that  the  bridge  was  the  one  Queza  had 
told  the  boys  about — it  led  to  the  cave  where  the 
treasure  was  kept.  We  laid  there  for  an  hour, 
watching.  The  buildings  were  all  huddled  to 
gether —  a  lot  of  flat,  brown  adobe  houses.  We 
could  see  the  natives  moving  down  among  them, 
but  none  of  us  noticed  anything  unusual  going  on 
until  Taggart  calls  our  attention. 

"'Did  you  notice?'  he  said. 
[96] 


THE  TOLTEC  IDOL 


"  '  Notice  what? '  we  all  answered. 

"  '  That  they're  all  women  down  there  —  I  ain't 
seen  a  man! ' 

"  That  was  a  fact.  There  didn't  seem  to  be  a 
man  anywhere  about.  We  talked  it  over  and  con 
cluded  that  we'd  got  there  at  a  most  advantageous 
time.  We  decided  that  the  men  were  away,  on  a 
hunt,  most  probably,  and  after  we'd  watched  a 
while  longer  we  decided  that  we'd  sneak  down 
some  way  and  go  after  the  treasure  about  mid 
night.  We  figured  they'd  all  be  sleeping  about 
that  time.  After  dark  they  lit  fires  and  sat  around 
them. 

"We  watched  until  about  eleven  —  until  we 
saw  that  nearly  all  the  fires  had  gone  out — and 
then  we  sneaked  down  the  slope  of  the  mountain. 
We  didn't  make  any  noise;  we  were  silent  and 
slippery  as  ghosts  as  we  made  our  way  through 
the  timber  on  the  slope.  It  was  slow  work, 
though;  the  woods  were  full  of  tangled  vines  and 
prickly  bushes,  and  we  got  clawed  up  considerable 
and  had  all  we  could  do  to  keep  from  cussing  out 
loud  when  a  thorn  or  something  would  rip  a  cheek 
open.  It  was  blacker  than  any  night  I've  ever 
seen  before  or  since;  we  couldn't  see  a  foot  ahead, 
and  the  sounds  we  heard  in  the  woods  didn't 
[97] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

make  us  feel  any  too  comfortable,  for  all  we'd 
got  used  to  living  in  the  open.  We  knew,  of 
course,  that  the  sounds  came  from  birds  and  bats 
and  moths  and  such,  but  when  a  man  is  out  on  a 
job  like  that  his  nerves  are  not  what  they  are  at 
other  times  —  every  sound  seems  unusual  and 
magnified.  I  didn't  like  so  much  silence  from  the 
village  down  below  us  —  it  seemed  too  quiet;  and 
it  appeared  to  me  that  the  noises  we  heard  in  the 
woods  were  most  too  continuous  to  be  caused  by 
only  us  four.  We  went  in  single  file,  one  man 
almost  touching  the  other,  to  be  sure  we'd  all  stay 
together.  I'd  hear  a  bird  go  whizzing  away  at  a 
distance,  and  it  appeared  to  me  that  there  was  no 
call  for  it  to  light  out  with  us  two  or  three  hun 
dred  feet  away  from  it;  and  then  there  were  queer 
noises  which  I  couldn't  just  place  as  coming  from 
birds.  I  don't  know  why  I  noticed  these  things, 
but  I  did,  just  the  same,  though  I  didn't  say  any 
thing  to  the  other  boys,  because  they'd  probably 
thought  I  was  losing  my  nerve.  And,  besides, 
there  wasn't  time  to  talk. 

"  It  took  us  more  than  an  hour  to  reach  the 

level  where  the  village  was,  and  it  was  long  after 

midnight  when  we,  keeping  in  the  shadow  of  the 

cliff,  started  toward  the  bridge  over  the  canyon, 

[98] 


THE  TOLTEC  IDOL 


which  led  to  the  cave  where  we  thought  we'd  find 
the  treasure. 

"  We'd  got  pretty  near  the  bridge,  Taggart  and 
me  in  the  lead,  Nebraska  and  Taylor  stringing 
along  behind,  when  I  heard  a  sudden  scuffling  and 
looked  around.  It  wasn't  so  dark  on  the  level  as 
it  had  been  in  the  woods,  and  I  saw  a  dozen  dark 
figures  grouped  around  Nebraska  and  Taylor. 
The  dark  figures  were  all  about  us,  and  more 
were  coming  from  the  huts,  all  yelling  like  devils. 
And  they  were  men,  too;  they'd  been  hiding  in 
the  huts;  they'd  discovered  us  the  day  before  and 
suspected  what  we  came  for.  I  found  that  out 
later. 

"Well,  for  a  few  minutes  there  was  plenty  of 
excitement.  Taylor  and  Nebraska  had  got  pretty 
well  behind  us,  and  the  Toltecs  had  cut  them  off. 
Taggart  showed  yellow.  I  started  back  to  help 
Nebraska  and  Taylor,  who  had  their  knives  out — 
I  could  see  them  shining  —  when  Taggart  grabbed 
me. 

"  '  Let's  run  for  the  bridge,  you  fool ! '  he  said. 
'  It's  every  man  for  himself  now  I ' 

"  While  I  was  scuffling  with  Taggart,  trying  to 
get  away  from  him  and  get  back  to  the  boys,  a 
figure  detached  itself  from  the  bunch  around  them 
[99] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

and  came  flying  toward  us.  It  was  a  woman,  I 
could  see  that  in  an  instant.  Taggart  saw  her 
coming,  too ;  he  must  have  known  it  was  a  woman, 
but  he  pulled  out  his  knife,  and  when  she  came 
close  enough  to  us  he  drove  at  her  with  it.  He 
missed  her  because  I  shoved  him  away.  He  fell, 
and,  while  he  was  on  the  ground,  the  woman  — 
or  girl,  because  she  wasn't  more  than  eighteen 
or  nineteen  —  grabbed  me  by  the  arm  and  jab 
bered  to  me  in  Spanish,  of  which  I'd  learned  a 
little. 

"'They're  going  to  kill  all  of  you!'  she  said. 
*  They've  been  watching  you  for  two  days.  They 
left  me  to  watch  you  yesterday.  I  don't  want  them 
to  kill  you  —  I  like  you  !  Come  I ' 

"  She  pulled  at  me,  trying  to  drag  me  toward 
the  bridge.  I  didn't  have  any  objections  to  her 
liking  me  as  much  as  she  pleased,  for  she  was  a 
beauty  —  I  found  that  out  afterward,  of  course; 
but  though  I  couldn't  see  her  face  very  well  just 
them,  I  liked  her  voice  and  knew  she  must  be  good 
to  look  at.  But  I  didn't  like  the  idea  of  leaving 
the  other  boys,  and  told  her  so. 

"'You'll  all  be  killed,  anyway,'  she  said,  all 
excited.     'They  might  as  well  die  now  as  later. 
They'll  kill  you,  too,  if  you  go  back ! ' 
[100] 


THE  TOLTEC  IDOL 


"That  was  logic,  all  right,  but  I'd  have  gone 
back  anyway  if  I  hadn't  heard  Nebraska  and 
Taylor  working  their  guns  just  then.  The  Toltecs 
broke  and  scattered  —  some  of  them.  Three  or 
four  of  them  couldn't  after  the  boys  began  to 
shoot.  Soon  as  the  Toltecs  broke  away  a  little, 
Nebraska  and  Taylor  made  for  where  we  stood. 
I  saw  them  coming  and  told  the  girl  to  lead  us. 
The  three  of  us  —  the  girl,  Taggart,  and  me  — 
got  to  the  bridge,  which  was  a  light,  flimsy,  narrow 
affair  made  of  two  long,  straight  saplings  lashed 
together  with  vines,  with  a  couple  of  strips  of 
bark  for  a  bottom  —  and  crossed  it.  Then  we 
stood  on  the  ledge  in  front  of  the  mouth  of  the 
cave,  watching  Nebraska  and  Taylor.  They  were 
coming  for  all  they  were  worth,  shooting  as  they 
ran  and  keeping  the  bunch  of  Toltecs  at  a  respec 
table  distance,  though  the  Toltecs  were  running 
parallel  with  them,  trying  to  bring  them  down  with 
arrows. 

"  Nebraska  and  Taylor  made  the  bridge'.  They 
had  got  about  half  way  over  when  a  dozen  or 
so  of  the  Toltecs  threw  themselves  at  the  end  of 
the  bridge  which  rested  on  the  village  side  of  the 
canyon,  grabbed  hold  of  it,  and  pulled  it  off  the 
ledge  on  our  side.  I  yelled  to  the  boys  and 
[101] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

jumped  for  the  end  of  the  bridge.  But  I  was 
too  late.  The  bridge  balanced  for  an  instant, 
and  then  the  end  on  which  the  boys  were  standing 
started  to  sink.  Nebraska  saw  what  was  coming, 
off  and  jumped  for  the  ledge  on  which  we  were 
standing.  He  missed  it  by  five  feet.  There 
wasn't  a  sound  from  his  lips  as  he  shot  down  into 
the  awful  blackness  of  the  canyon.  I  got  sick  and 
dizzy,  but  not  so  sick  that  I  couldn't  see  what  was 
happening  to  Taylor.  Taylor  didn't  jump  for  the 
ledge.  He  turned  like  a  cat  and  grabbed  a  rail 
of  the  bridge,  trying  to  climb  back  to  the  level. 
He'd  have  made  it,  too,  but  the  Toltecs  wouldn't 
let  him.  They  jabbed  at  him  with  their  spears 
and  arrows  and  threw  knives  at  him.  One  of 
the  knives  struck  him  in  the  shoulder,  and 
when  I  heard  him  scream  I  pulled  my  guns  and 
began  to  shoot  across  the  canyon.  I  hadn't 
thought  of  it  before;  there  are  times  when  a 
man's  brain  refuses  to  work  like  he'd  like  to 
have  it.  But  the  Toltecs  didn't  mind  the  shooting 
a  little  bit. 

"Three  or  four  of  them  got  hit  and  backed 

away  from  the  edge  of  the-canyon,  but  there  were 

enough  others  to  do  what  they  were  trying  to  do, 

and  they  did  it.    I  stood  there,  helpless,  and  saw 

[102] 


THE  TOLTEC  IDOL 


them  shove  Taylor  off  the  bridge  with  their  spears. 
When  he  finally  let  go  and  went  turning  over  and 
over  down  into  the  black  hole,  my  whole  insides 
fanned  up  into  my  throat.  That  sensation  has 
never  left  me;  I  wake  up  nights  seeing  Taylor  as 
he  let  go  of  the  bridge,  watching  him  sink,  tum 
bling  over  and  over  into  that  black  gash,  and  I 
get  sick  and  dizzy  just  as  I  did  that  night. 

"  But  just  then  I  didn't  have  much  of  a  chance 
to  be  sick  long.  While  I  was  standing  there  won 
dering  what  to  do  I  saw  a  Toltec  priest  come  out 
of  the  cave.  He  had  a  spear  in  his  hand  and  was 
sneaking  up  on  Taggart — who  stood  there  almost 
fainting  from  fright.  There  was  murder  in  the 
priest's  eyes;  I  saw  it  and  bent  my  gun  on  him. 
The  trigger  snapped  on  dead  cartridges,  and 
I  yanked  out  my  knife.  I'd  have  been  too  late, 
at  that.  But  the  girl  saw  the  priest,  and  she 
dodged  behind  him  and  gave  him  a  shove.  He 
pitched  out  and  went  head  first  down  into  the 
canyon. 

"  The  Toltecs  on  the  other  side  were  watching, 
and  they  saw  the  priest  go.  Until  now  they 
hadn't  shot  at  us,  probably  afraid  of  hitting  the 
girl,  but  when  they  saw  her  push  the  priest  over 
the  edge  of  the  canyon  they  saw  that  her  sym- 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

pathies  were  with  us,  and  they  let  drive  at  us  with 
their  arrows.  We  were  all  slightly  wounded  — 
not  enough  to  mention — and  we  got  back  into  the 
cave  where  their  arrows  couldn't  reach  us.  Three 
or  four  times  the  Toltecs  tried  to  swing  the  bridge 
back  into  position,  but  they  couldn't  make  it  be 
cause  there  was  no  one  on  our  side  to  help  them, 
and  Taggart  and  me  made  things  mighty  un 
pleasant  for  them  with  our  sixes.  They  finally 
went  away  and  held  a  council  of  war,  which 
seemed  to  leave  them  undecided.  They  evidently 
hadn't  figured  on  the  girj  turning  traitor.  If  she 
hadn't  they'd  have  got  me  and  Taggart  in  short 
order. 

"We'd  got  where  the  treasure  was,  all  right, 
but  it  was  a  mighty  bad  outlook  for  us.  We  were 
kind  of  anxious  about  the  bridge,  being  afraid  the 
Toltecs  would  get  it  back  into  place;  but  the  girl, 
who  called  herself  Ezela,  showed  us  that  getting 
the  bridge  back  wasn't  possible  without  help  from 
our  side.  She  said  that  the  priest  she'd  dumped 
down  into  the  canyon  was  the  only  one  with  the 
tribe  at  the  time ;  the  others  had  gone  to  a  distant 
village.  She  said,  too,  that  there  was  a  secret 
passage  from  the  cave;  she'd  discovered  it,  and 
no  one  but  her  and  the  priests  knew  anything 
[104] 


THE  TOLTEC  IDOL 


about  it,  but  that  the  Toltecs  would  send  runners 
for  the  priests  and  we'd  have  to  get  out  before 
they  came,  or  they'd  lay  for  us  at  the  outlet. 

"Well,  we  hustled.  We  felt  bad  about 
Nebraska  and  Taylor,  and  were  determined  not 
to  leave  without  some  of  the  treasure,  and  after 
Ezela  showed  us  where  it  was  I  kept  her  busy 
talking  while  Taggart  got  about  as  much  as  he 
could  carry.  Ezela  offered  no  objections;  on  the 
other  hand,  when  Taggart  came  back  she  told  me 
to  get  some  of  the  treasure  too.  Taggart  hadn't 
taken  enough  to  miss;  there  were  millions  of 
dollars'  worth  of  gold  and  diamonds  in  the  room, 
where  they'd  raised  a  kind  of  an  altar,  and  I  had 
my  choice. 

"  I  took  some  of  the  gold,  but  what  attracted 
me  —  not  because  it  was  pretty,  but  because  I  saw 
in  a  minute  that  it  was  valuable  —  was  a  hideous 
image  about  six  inches  high.  I  had  had  an  idea 
all  along  that  Queza  had  been  lying  about  the 
diamonds,  but  when  I  saw  the  image  I  knew  he'd 
told  the  truth.  There  were  about  a  hundred  dia 
monds  on  the  image,  stuck  all  around  it,  the  image 
itself  being  gold.  The  diamonds  ran  from  a  carat 
to  seven  or  eight  carats,  and  there  was  no  question 
about  them  being  the  real  thing.  I  stuck  the  thing 
[105] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

into  a  hip  pocket,  figuring  that  with  the  few  other 
ornaments  I  had  I  would  have  plenty  to  carry. 
Then  I  went  back  to  where  Ezela  and  Taggart 
were  waiting  for  me. 

"  Ezela  led  us  through  a  long,  narrow  passage, 
down  some  steps  to  another  passage,  and  pretty 
soon  we  were  sneaking  along  this  and  I  began  to 
get  a  whiff  of  fresh  air.  In  a  little  while  we  found 
ourselves  on  a  narrow  ledge  in  the  canyon,  about 
thirty  or  forty  feet  below  the  level  where  the 
bridge  had  been,  and  it  was  so  dark  down  there 
that  we  couldn't  see  one  another. 

"Ezela  whispered  to  us  to  follow  her,  and  to 
be  careful.  We  had  to  be  careful,  and  after  what 
had  happened,  crawling  along  that  ledge  wasn't 
the  most  cheerful  job  in  the  world.  It  would  have 
been  a  ticklish  thing  to  do  in  the  daytime,  but  at 
night  it  was  a  thousand  times  worse.  I  kept 
thinking  about  poor  Taylor  and  Nebraska,  and 
there  were  times  when  I  felt  that  I  just  had  to 
yell  and  jump  out  into  the  black  hole  around  us. 
Taggart  showed  it  worse  than  me.  It  took  us  an 
hour  to  traverse  that  ledge.  We'd  strike  a  short 
turn  where  there  wouldn't  be  more  than  six  or 
eight  inches  of  ledge  between  us  and  eternity,  and 
we  couldn't  see  a  thing  —  I've  thought  since  that 
[106] 


THE  TOLTEC  IDOL 


maybe  it  was  a  good  thing  we  couldn't.  But  we 
could  feel  the  width  of  the  ledge  with  our  feet, 
and  there  were  times  when  my  legs  shook  under 
me  like  I  had  the  ague.  Taggart  was  pretty  near 
collapse  all  the  time.  He  kept  mumbling  to  him 
self,  making  queer  little  throaty  noises  and  grab 
bing  at  me.  Two  or  three  times  I  had  to  turn  and 
talk  to  him,  or  he'd  have  let  go  all  holds  and 
jumped. 

"We  finally  made  solid  ground,  and  it  was  a 
full  hour  before  me  or  Taggart  could  get  up 
after  we'd  sat  down,  we  were  that  tuckered  out. 
The  girl  didn't  seem  to  mind  it  a  bit;  she  told 
me  she'd  discovered  the  secret  passage  that  way. 
She'd  been  nosing  around  the  mountain  one  day 
and  had  crept  along  the  edge,  finding  that  it  led 
to  the  treasure  cave. 

"There  wasn't  any  time  lost  by  us  in  getting 
away  from  that  place.  Ezela  told  us  there  wasn't 
any  use  hoping  that  Nebraska  and  Taylor  were 
alive,  because  the  canyon  was  over  a  thousand  feet 
deep  and  there  was  a  roaring  river  at  the  bottom. 
I  don't  like  to  think  of  that  fall. 

"Taggart  objected  to  Ezela  going  with  us,  but 
I  couldn't  think  of  letting  her  stay  to  be  punished 
by  her  tribe  for  what  she'd  done  —  they'd  have 
[107] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

burned  her,  sure,  she  said.  Besides,  I  may  as  well 
tell  the  truth,  I'd  got  to  liking  Ezela  a  good  bit 
by  this  time.  She  was  good  to  look  at,  and  she'd 
been  hanging  around  me,  telling  me  that  she 
wanted  to  go  with  us,  and  that  she'd  done  what 
she  had  for  my  sake,  because  she  liked  me.  All 
that  sort  of  stuff  plays  on  a  man's  vanity  when  it 
comes  from  a  pretty  girl,  and  it  didn't  take  me 
long  to  decide  that  I  was  in  love  with  her  and  that, 
aside  from  humane  reasons,  I  ought  to  take  her 
with  me.  So  I  took  her. 

"We  reached  the  boat  after  a  week  of  heart 
breaking  travel,  and  we  hadn't  got  over  two  miles 
out  in  the  bay  when  we  saw  that  we  hadn't  left 
any  too  soon.  A  hundred  or  so  Toltecs  were  on 
the  beach,  doing  a  war  dance  and  waving  their 
spears  at  us.  We  had  a  pretty  close  call  of  it  for 
grub,  but  we  made  a  little  town  on  the  gulf  and 
stocked  up,  and  then  we  headed  for  the  mouth  of 
the  Rio  Grande.  We  camped  one  night  a  week 
later  on  United  States  soil,  and  that  night  while 
I  was  asleep  Taggart  tried  to  knife  me.  I'd 
showed  Taggart  the  diamond  image  one  day  while 
Ezela  was  asleep  in  the  boat,  and  he'd  got  greedy 
for  it.  Ezela  screamed  when  she  saw  him  getting 
close  to  me  with  the  knife,  and  I  woke  in  time  to 
[108] 


THE  TOLTEC  IDOL 


grab  him  before  he  got  a  chance  to  get  the  knife 
into  me.  He  finally  broke  away,  leaving  all  the 
treasure  he'd  brought  except  a  little  that  he  had 
in  his  pockets  —  he'd  had  a  bundle  of  it  strapped 
to  his  belt  besides  that  —  and  I  didn't  see  him 
again  for  four  years. 

"I  took  Ezela  up  the  Pecos  to  the  Connors', 
where  I'd  left  you,  bought  a  wagon  and  horses 
and  a  few  things  —  bedding  and  grub  and  such 
stuff  —  and  lit  out  for  New  Mexico.  I  figured 
that  I  had  enough  of  the  kind  of  friends  I'd  been 
keeping,  and  I  didn't  want  to  be  ridiculed  for 
tying  up  to  an  Indian  girl  —  white  folks  don't  like 
to  see  that.  I  came  here  and  took  up  this  land, 
figuring  that  I  wouldn't  be  disturbed.  I'd  been 
here  four  years  when  Taggart  came.  I'd  sold 
some  of  the  treasure,  but,  for  some  reason  which 
I've  never  been  able  to  figure  out,  I  kept  the  idol. 
I  think  I  was  afraid  to  try  to  sell  it  on  account  of 
the  big  diamonds  in  it. 

"  I  gave  Taggart  the  treasure  he'd  left  behind 
the  night  he  tried  to  knife  me,  but  he  wasn't  satis 
fied;  he  wanted  more,  wanted  me  to  sell  the  Toltec 
image  and  split  with  him.  Of  course  I  wouldn't 
do  that  because  of  the  way  he'd  acted,  and  he 
swore  to  get  it  some  day. 

[109] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"He  took  up  some  land  about  fifteen  miles 
down  the  river,  and  he's  stayed  there  ever  since. 
I've  been  afraid  to  go  anywhere  with  the  idol 
for  fear  he'd  waylay  me  and  get  it.  One  day 
while  I  was  away  somewhere  he  came  here  and 
told  Ezela  about  me  having  the  idol.  From  that 
time  on  I  led  a  life  of  hell.  Ezela  turned  on  me. 
She  said  I'd  desecrated  the  altars  of  her  tribe, 
and  she  kept  harping  to  me  about  it  until  I  got 
so  I  couldn't  bear  the  sight  of  her. 

"  I  discovered  soon  after  we  came  here  that  I 
had  been  mistaken  in  thinking  I  had  loved  her — • 
what  I  had  thought  was  love  was  merely  gratitude. 
My  gratitude  didn't  last,  of  course,  with  her 
hounding  me  continually  about  the  idol.  Finally 
I  discovered  that  she  and  Taggart  were  plotting 
against  me.  Of  course,  Taggart  was  after  the 
image  himself.  He  didn't  care  anything  about 
her  religious  scruples,  but  he  made  her  believe  he 
sympathized  with  her,  and  made  a  fool  of  her. 
I  tried  to  kill  Taggart  the  day  I  found  that  out, 
but  he  got  away,  and  after  that  he  never  traveled 
alone  and  I  didn't  get  another  chance.  I  ordered 
Ezela  away,  but  she  said  she  wouldn't  go  until  she 
got  the  image.  Many  times  I  debated  the  idea  of 
putting  her  out  of  the  way,  but  there  was  always 
[no] 


THE  TOLTEC  IDOL 


the  knowledge  in  my  mind  that  she  had  saved  my 
life,  and  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  do  it. 

"You  know  how  we  lived.  My  life  was  con 
stantly  in  danger,  and  I  became  hardened,  suspi 
cious,  brutal.  You  got  the  whole  accumulation. 
Taggart  and  Ezela  bribed  my  men  to  watch  me. 
I  had  to  discharge  them.  After  Ezela  died  I 
thought  Taggart  would  leave  me  alone.  But  he 
didn't  —  he  wanted  the  image.  One  day  he  and 
his  boy  Neal  came  over  and  ambushed  me.  They 
shot  me  in  the  shoulder.  I  was  in  the  house, 
defending  myself  as  best  I  could,  when  Malcolm 
Clayton  came.  By  this  time  Betty  has  told  you 
the  rest  and  you  know  just  what  you  can  expect 
from  the  Taggarts. 

"That  is  the  whole  history  of  the  Toltec  idol. 
I  am  not  proud  of  my  part  in  the  affair,  but  Tom 
Taggart  must  never  have  the  idol.  Remember 
that!  I  don't  want  him  to  have  it!  Neither  do 
I  want  you  to  have  it,  or  the  money  I  leave,  unless 
you  can  show  that  you  forgive  me.  As  I  have  said, 
I  don't  take  your  word  for  it — you  must  prove  it. 

"I  know  you  are  coming  home,  and  I  wish  I 
could  live  to  see  you.  But  I  know  I  won't.  Don't 
be  too  hard  on  me.  Your  father, 

"JAMES  MARSTON." 
[in] 


CHAPTER  IX 

RESPONSIBILITY 

FOR  a  long  time  after  he  had  completed  the 
reading  of  the  letter,  Calumet  was  silent, 
staring  straight  ahead  of  him.  The  information 
contained  in  the  account  of  his  father's  adven 
tures  was  soothing  —  the  termagant  who  had 
presided  over  his  boyhood  destinies  had  not  been 
his  real  mother,  and  his  father  had  left  him  a 
score  to  settle.  He  already  hated  the  Taggarts, 
not  particularly  because  they  were  his  father's 
enemies,  but  rather  because  Tom  Taggart  had 
been  a  traitor.  He  felt  a  contempt  for  him.  He 
himself  was  mean  and  vicious  —  he  knew  that. 
But  he  had  never  betrayed  a  friend.  It  was  better 
to  have  no  friend  than  to  have  one  and  betray 
him.  He  looked  around  to  see  that  Betty  was 
still  apparently  absorbed  in  her  book. 

"  Do  you  know  what  is  in  this  letter?  "  he  said. 

She  laid  the  book  in  her  lap  and  nodded  affirm 
atively. 

"You  opened  it,  I  suppose?"  he  sneered. 

[112] 


RESPONSIBILITY 


"  No,"  she  returned,  unmoved.  "  Your  father 
read  it  to  me." 

"  Kind  of  him,  wasn't  it?  What  do  you  think 
of  it?" 

"  What  I  think  isn't  important.  What  do  you 
think  of  it?" 

"Nosey,  eh?"  he  jeered.  "If  it  won't  incon 
venience  you  any,  I'll  keep  what  I  think  of  it  to 
myself.  But  it's  plain  to  me  now  that  when 
you  caught  me  tryin'  to  guzzle  your  granddad  you 
thought  I  belonged  to  the  Taggart  bunch.  You 
told  me  I'd  have  to  try  again  —  or  somethin'  like 
that.  I  reckon  you  thought  I  was  after  the  idol?  " 

"Yes." 

"Then  the  Taggarts  have  tried  to  get  it  since 
you've  been  here?" 

"  Many  times." 

"  But  you  left  the  front  door  open  the  night  I 
came,"  insinuated  Calumet,  his  eyes  glowing 
subtly.  "That  looks  like  you  was  invitin'  some 
one  to  come  in  an'  get  the  idol." 

"We  never  bother  much  about  barring  the 
doors.  Besides,  I  don't  remember  to  have  told 
you  that  the  idol  is  in  the  house,"  she  smiled. 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  baffled  sneer.  "  Foxy, 
ain't  you?"  He  folded  the  letter  and  placed  it 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

into  a  pocket,  she  watching  him  silently.  Her 
gaze  fell  on  the  injured  arm;  she  saw  the  angry 
red  streaks  spreading  from  beneath  the  crude 
bandage  and  she  got  up,  laying  her  book  down 
and  regarding  him  with  determined  eyes. 

"  Please  come  out  into  the  kitchen  with  me," 
she   said;   "I   am   going  to   take   care   of  your 


arm." 


He  looked  up  at  her  with  a  glance  of  cold  mock 
ery.  "When  did  you  get  my  permission  to  take 
care  of  it?  It  don't  need  any  carin'  for.  An1 
if  it  did,  I  reckon  to  be  able  to  do  my  own  doc- 
torin'." 

She  looked  at  him  steadily  and  something  in 
her  gaze  made  him  feel  uncomfortable. 

"  Don't  be  silly,"  she  said.  She  turned  and 
went  out  into  the  kitchen.  He  could  hear  her 
working  over  the  stove.  He  saw  her  cross  the 
room  with  a  tea  kettle,  fill  it  with  water  from  a 
pail,  return  and  place  the  kettle  on  the  stove.  He 
was  determined  that  he  would  not  allow  her  to 
dress  the  wound,  but  when  ten  minutes  later  she 
appeared  in  the  kitchen  door  and  told  him  she 
was  ready,  he  got  up  and  went  reluctantly  out. 

She  washed  the  arm,  bathing  the  wound  with  a 
solution  of  water  and  some  medicine  which  she 


RESPONSIBILITY 


poured  from  a  bottle,  and  then  bandaged  it  with 
some  white  cloth.  Neither  said  anything  until 
after  she  had  delicately  tied  a  string  around  the 
bandage  to  keep  it  in  place,  and  then  she  stepped 
back  and  regarded  her  work  with  satisfaction. 
"There,"  she  said;  "doesn't  that  feel  better?" 
"Some,"  he  returned,  grudgingly.  He  stood 
up  and  watched  her  while  she  spread  a  cloth  partly 
over  the  table  and  placed  some  dishes  and  food 
upon  it.  He  was  hungry,  and  the  sight  of  the 
food  made  him  feel  suddenly  ravenous.  He 
watched  her  covertly,  noting  her  matter-of-fact 
movements.  It  was  as  though  she  had  not  the 
slightest  idea  that  he  would  refuse  to  eat,  and  he 
felt  certain  that  he  could  not  refuse.  She  was 
making  him  feel  uncomfortable  again;  that  epi 
thet,  "  silly,"  rankled  in  him  and  he  did  not  want 
to  hear  her  apply  it  to  him  again.  But  he  would 
have  risked  it  had  she  looked  at  him.  She 
did  not  look  at  him.  When  she  had  finally 
arranged  everything  to  suit  her  taste  she  turned 
her  back  and  walked  to  the  door  of  the  dining- 
room. 

"There  is  your  supper,"  she  said  quietly.  "I 
have  fixed  up  your  room  for  you  —  the  room  you 
occupied  before  you  left  home.  I  am  going  to 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

leave  the  light  burning  in  the  dining-room  —  you 
might  want  to  read  your  letter  again.  Blow  the 
light  out  when  you  go  to  bed.  Good  night." 

He  grumbled  an  incoherent  reply,  turning  his 
back  to  her.  Her  calm,  unruffled  acceptance  of 
his  incivility  filled  him  with  a  cold  resentment. 

"What  did  you  say?"  she  demanded  of  him 
from  the  door. 

He  turned  sullenly.  The  light  mockery  in  her 
voice  stung  him,  shamed  him  —  her  eyes,  dancing 
with  mischief,  held  his. 

"  Good  night,"  he  said  shortly. 

"  Good  night,"  she  said  again.  She  laughed 
and  vanished. 

For  an  instant  Calumet  stood,  scowling  at  the 
vacant  doorway.  Then  he  turned  and  went  over 
to  the  table  in  the  kitchen,  looking  down  at  the 
food  and  the  dishes.  She  had  compelled  him  to 
be  civil.  He  gripped  one  end  of  the  table  cloth, 
and  for  an  instant  it  seemed  as  though  he  medi 
tated  dumping  dishes  and  food  upon  the  floor. 
Then  he  grinned,  grimly  amused,  and  sat  in  the 
chair  before  the  table,  taking  up  knife  and  fork. 

Early  as  he  arose  the  next  morning,  he  found 
that  Betty  had  been  before  him.  He  saw  her 
standing  on  the  rear  porch  when  he  went  out  to 
[116] 


RESPONSIBILITY 


care  for  his  horse,  and  she  smiled  and  called  a 
greeting  to  him,  which  he  answered  soberly. 

For  some  reason  which  he  could  not  explain  he 
felt  a  little  reluctance  toward  going  into  the 
kitchen  for  breakfast  this  morning.  Yet  he  did 
go,  though  he  waited  outside  until  Betty  came  to 
the  door  and  called  him.  He  was  pretending  to 
be  busy  at  his  saddle,  though  he  knew  this  was  a 
pretext  to  cover  his  submission  to  her.  He  did 
not  move  toward  the  house  until  she  vanished 
within  it. 

He  was  quiet  during  the  meal,  wondering  at 
the  change  that  had  come  over  him,  for  he  felt  a 
strange  resignation.  He  told  himself  that  it  was 
gratitude  for  her  action  in  caring  for  his  injured 
arm,  and  yet  he  watched  her  narrowly  for  any 
sign  that  would  tell  him  that  she  was  aware  of  his 
thoughts  and  was  enjoying  him.  But  he  was  able 
to  determine  nothing  from  her  face,  for  though 
she  smiled  often  there  was  nothing  in  her  face 
•  at  which  he  could  take  offense.  She  devoted  much 
of  her  time  and  attention  to  Bob.  And  Bob 
talked  to  Calumet.  There  was  something  about 
the  boy  that  attracted  Calumet,  and  before  the 
meal  ended  they  were  conversing  companionably. 
But  toward  the  conclusion  of  the  meal,  when  in 

[II?] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZJ  7 

answer  to  something  Bob  said  to  him  he  smiled 
at  the  boy,  he  saw  Betty  looking  at  him  with  a 
glance  of  mingled  astonishment  and  pleasure,  he 
sobered  and  ceased  talking.  He  didn't  want  to 
do  anything  to  please  Betty. 

He  was  saddling  Blackleg  after  breakfast,  in 
tending  to  go  down  the  river  a  short  distance, 
when  he  became  aware  that  Betty  was  standing 
near  him.  Without  a  word  she  handed  him  a 
bulky  envelope  with  his  name  written  on  it.  He 
took  it,  tore  open  an  end,  and  a  piece  of  paper, 
enclosing  several  bills,  slipped  out.  He  shot  a 
quick  glance  at  Betty;  she  was  looking  at  him 
unconcernedly.  He  counted  the  bills;  there  were 
ten  one  hundred  dollar  gold  certificates. 

"What's  this  for?"  he  demanded. 

"  Read  the  letter,"  she  directed. 

He  unfolded  the  paper.      It  read: 

"  MY  DEAR  SON  :  The  money  in  this  envelope 
is  to  be  used  by  you  in  buying  material  to  be  used 
to  repair  the  ranchhouse.  I  have  prepared  an 
itemized  list  of  the  necessary  materials,  which 
Betty  will  give  you.  Your  acceptance  of  the  task 
imposed  on  you  will  indicate  that  you  intend  to 
fulfill  my  wishes.  It  will  also  mean  that  you 
[118] 


RESPONSIBILITY 


seriously  contemplate  an  attempt  at  reform.  The 
fact  that  you  receive  this  money  shows  that  you 
are  already  making  progress,  for  you  would 
never  get  it  if  Betty  thought  you  didn't  deserve 
it,  or  were  not  worthy  of  a  trial.  I  congratulate 
you. 

"YOUR  FATHER." 

"Got  it  all  framed  up  on  me,  eh?"  said  Calu 
met.  "  So  you  think  I've  made  progress,  an'  that 
I'm  goin'  to  do  what  you  want  me  to  do? " 

14  Your  progress  hasn't  been  startling,"  she  said 
dryly.  "  But  you  have  progressed.  At  least,  you 
have  shown  some  inclination  to  listen  to  reason. 
Here  is  the  itemized  list  which  your  father  speaks 
of."  She  passed  over  another  paper,  which  Calu 
met  scanned  slowly  and  carefully.  His  gaze  be 
came  fixed  on  the  total  at  the  bottom  of  the  column 
of  figures. 

"  It  amounts  to  nine  hundred  and  sixty  dol 
lars,"  he  said,  looking  at  her,  a  disgusted 
expression  on  his  face.  "  Looks  like  the  old  fool 
was  mighty  careless  with  his  money.  Couldn't 
he  have  put  down  another  item  to  cover  that  forty 
dollars?" 

"  I  believe  that  margin  was  left  purposely  to 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

take  care  of  a  possible  advance  in  prices  over 
those  with  which  your  father  was  familiar  at  the 
time  he  made  out  the  list,"  she  answered,  smiling 
in  appreciation  of  his  perturbation. 

"That's  keepin'  cases  pretty  close,  ain't  it?'*' 
he  said.  "  Suppose  I'd  blow  the  whole  business  ?  " 

"That  would  show  that  you  could  not  be 
trusted.  Your  father  left  instructions  which  pro 
vide  for  that  contingency." 

"What  are  they?" 

"  I  am  not  to  tell." 

"Clever,  ain't  it?"  he  said,  looking  at  her 
with  displeased,  hostile  eyes.  She  met  his  gaze 
with  a  calm  half-smile  which  had  in  it  that  irri 
tating  quality  of  advantage  that  he  had  noticed 
before. 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  it  clever,"  she  returned. 

"It  was  your  idea,  I  reckon?" 

"  I  believe  I  did  suggest  it  to  your  father.  He 
was  somewhat  at  a  loss  to  know  how  to  deal  with 
you.  He  told  me  that  he  had  some  doubts  about 
the  scheme  working;  he  said  you  would  take 
it  and  'blow'  it  in,  as  you  said  you  might,  but  I 
disagreed  with  him.  I  was  convinced  that  you 
would  do  the  right  thing." 

"You  had  a  lot  of  faith  in  me,  didn't  you?" 
[120] 


RESPONSIBILITY 


he  said,  incredulously.  "You  believed  in  a  man 
you'd  never  seen." 

"Your  father  had  a  picture  of  you,"  she  said, 
looking  straight  at  him.  "  It  was  taken  when 
you  were  fifteen,  just  before  you  left  the  ranch. 
It  showed  a  boy  with  a  cynical  face  and  brooding, 
challenging  eyes.  But  in  spite  of  all  that  I 
thought  I  detected  signs  of  promise  in  the  face. 
I  was  certain  that  if  you  were  managed  right  you 
could  be  reformed." 

"You  were  certain,"  he  said  significantly. 
"What  do  you  think  now?" 

"I  haven't  altered  my  opinion."  Her  gaze 
was  steady  and  challenging.  "  Of  course,"  she 
added,  blushing  faintly;  "I  believe  I  was  a  little 
surprised  when  you  came  and  I  saw  that  you  had 
grown  to  be  a  man.  You  see,  I  had  looked  at 
your  picture  so  often  that  I  rather  expected  to  see 
a  boy  when  you  came.  I  had  forgotten  those 
thirteen  years.  But  it  has  been  said  that  a  man 
is  merely  a  grown-up  boy  and  there  is  much  truth 
in  that.  Despite  your  gruff  ways,  your  big  voice, 
and  your  contemptible  way  of  treating  people, 
you  are  very  much  a  boy.  But  I  am  still  con 
vinced  that  you  are  all  right  at  heart.  I  think 
everybody  is,  and  the  good  could  be  brought  lor- 

[121] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

ward  if  someone  would  take  enough  interest  in 
the  subject." 

"Then  you  take  an  interest  in  me?"  said  Calu 
met,  grinning  scornfully. 

"Yes,"  she  said  frankly;  "  to  the  extent  of  won-' 
dering  whether  or  not  time  will  vindicate  my  judg 
ment." 

"Then  you  think  I  won't  blow  this  coin?"  he 
said,  tapping  the  bills. 

"  I  think  you  will  spend  it  for  the  articles  on 
the  list  I  have  given  you." 

He  looked  at  her  and  she  was  certain  there 
was  indecision  in  the  glance. 

"Well,"  he  said  abruptly,  turning  from  her; 
"  mebbe  I  will  an'  mebbe  I  won't.  But  whatever 
I  do  with  it  will  be  done  to  suit  myself.  It  won't 
be  done  to  please  you." 

He  mounted  his  pony  and  rode  to  the  far 
end  of  the  ranchhouse  yard.  When  he  turned  in 
the  saddle  it  was  with  the  conviction  that  Betty 
would  be  standing  there  watching  him.  Some 
how,  he  wished  she  would.  But  she  was  walking 
toward  the  ranchhouse,  her  back  to  him,  and  he 
made  a  grimace  of  disappointment  as  he  urged 
his  pony  out  into  the  valley. 

[122] 


CHAPTER  X 

NEW  ACQUAINTANCES 

CALUMET  had  been  in  no  hurry,  though 
maintaining  its  steady  chop-trot  for  most  of 
the  distance,  Blackleg  had  set  him  down  in  Lazette 
in  a  little  over  two  hours. 

Something  had  happened  to  Calumet.  He  had 
carefully  considered  the  phenomenon  all  the  way 
over  from  the  Lazy  Y;  he  considered  it  now  as 
he  sat  sideways  in  the  saddle  before  the  rough 
board  front  of  the  Red  Dog  Saloon.  Betty  had 
faith  in  him.  That  was  the  phenomenon  —  the 
unheard  of  miracle.  No  one  else  had  ever  had 
faith  in  him,  and  so  it  was  a  new  experience  and 
one  that  must  be  thoroughly  pondered  if  he  was 
to  enjoy  it.  And  that  he  was  enjoying  it  was 
apparent.  Though  he  faced  the  Red  Dog  Saloon 
he  did  not  see  it.  He  kept  seeing  Betty  as  she 
looked  after  she  had  given  him  the  money.  "  I 
know  you  will  do  the  right  thing,"  she  had  said, 
or  something  very  like  that.  It  made  no  differ 
ence  what  her  words  had  been.  What  she  meant 
[123] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

was  that  she  had  faith  in  him.  And  her  eyes 
had  said  that  she  expected  him  to  justify  that 
faith. 

But  would  he?  He  didn't  know.  For  the 
first  time  in  his  life  he  was  afflicted  with  indeci 
sion  over  the  possession  of  money.  In  the  old 
days  —  the  Durango  days  —  which  now  seemed 
to  be  far  behind  him,  the  thousand  dollars  in 
his  pocket  would  have  served  to  finance  a  brief 
holiday  of  license  and  drinking  and  reckless  play 
with  gambling  devices.  But  now  it  was  different 
—  something  withirrhim  had  called  —  or  was  call 
ing —  a  halt.  He  told  himself  that  it  was  because 
he  had  a  curiosity  to  follow  this  strange,  freakish 
plan  of  Betty's  to  the  end. 

Some  other  emotion  was  calling  just  as  strongly 
for  him  to  do  with  the  money  as  he  had  always 
done  with  money.  And  so  indecision  afflicted 
him.  Humor  likewise.  He  rarely  felt  in  this 
mood.  Not  for  years  had  he  felt  like  laughing. 
Was  he  the  Calumet  Marston  who,  a  week  before, 
had  set  out  on  his  homeward  journey  filled  with 
bitterness  —  looking  for  trouble?  Had  he  been 
at  the  Lazy  Y  a  day  or  a  year?  It  was  a  day  — 
two  days  —  but  it  seemed  more  like  the  longer 
time.  At  least  the  time  had  wrought  a  change  in 
[124] 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES 


him.  It  was  ludicrous,  farcical.  In  spite  of  his 
treatment  of  Betty  she  had  faith  in  him !  Wasn't 
that  just  like  a  woman?  There  was  nothing  logi 
cal  in  her.  She  had  taken  him  on  trust.  The 
whole  business  was  in  the  nature  of  a  comedy  and 
suddenly  yielding  to  his  feelings  he  straightened 
in  the  saddle  and  laughed  uproariously. 

He  did  not  laugh  long,  and  when  he  sobered 
down  and  with  an  effort  brought  his  mind  back 
to  the  present,  he  became  aware  of  the  Red  Dog, 
saw  a  young  cowpuncher  seated  on  the  board  side 
walk  in  front  of  the  building,  his  back  resting 
against  it,  laughing  in  sympathy  with  him. 

Calumet  was  disconcerted  for  a  moment.  His 
eyes  narrowed  truculently.  But  then,  as  the  odd- 
ness  of  the  situation  struck  him  he  laughed  again. 
But  this  time  as  he  laughed  he  took  stock  of  the 
young  cowpuncher,  who  was  again  laughing  with 
him. 

The  puncher  was  young — very  young;  not 
more  than  twenty-one  or  two.  There  was  a 
week's  growth  of  beard  on  his  face.  A  saddle 
reposed  by  his  side.  In  spite  of  his  laughter 
something  about  him  spoke  eloquently  of  trouble. 
Calumet  felt  a  sudden  interest  in  him.  Any  man 
who  could  laugh  when  the  world  was  not  doing 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

well  with  him  must  be  made  of  good  stuff.  But 
Calumet's  interest  was  cynical  and  it  brought  a 
sneer  to  his  lips  as  he  ceased  laughing  and  sat 
loosely  in  the  saddle  regarding  the  puncher. 

"I  reckon  you  ain't  got  no  objections  to  tellin' 
me  what  you're  laughin'  at?"  he  said  coldly. 

"  Mebbe  you'd  put  me  wise  to  the  same  thing," 
said  the  other.  "  I'm  settin'  here,  puttin'  in  a 
heap  of  my  time  tryin'  to  figger  out  who  got 
the  most  of  the  six  months'  wages  which  I  had 
with  me  when  I  struck  town  yesterday  —  an'  not 
makin'  a  hell  of  a  lot  of  progress  —  when  you 
mosey  up  here  an'  begin  to  laugh  your  fool  head 
off.  At  nothin',  so  far's  I  can  see.  Well,  that's 
what  I  was  laughin'  at.  Ketch  my  drift?" 

"Meanin'  that  I'm  nothin',  I  reckon?" 

"Meanin'  that  you  was  laughin'  at  it,"  said  the 
puncher  with  a  deprecatory  smile.  "  I  ain't 
lookin'  for  trouble  —  I'm  it!" 

Calumet's  eyes  twinkled.  This  was  a  very  dis 
cerning  young  man.  "  Cleaned  out,  I  reckon," 
he  said.  "You  look  old  enough  to  sabe  that 
playin'  with  a  buzz  saw  is  mild  amusement  com 
pared  with  buckin'  a  gambler's  game." 

"  Got  singed  yourself,  I  reckon,"  said  the 
puncher  wearily.  "You  know  the  signs.  Well, 
[126] 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES 


you've  hit  it.  They'd  have  got  my  saddle,  too, 
only  —  only  they  didn't  seem  to  want  it.  There's 
still  charity  in  the  world,  after  all  —  some  guys 
don't  want  everything.  So  I'm  considerin'  the 
saddle  a  gift.  It's  likely,  though,  that  they 
thought  that  if  they  left  me  the  saddle  I'd  go 
right  out  an'  rustle  me  another  job  an'  earn 
some  more  coin  an'  come  back  an'  hand  that 
over,  too.  But  they've  got  me  wrong.  Your 
little  Dade  Hallowell  has  swore  off.  He  ain't 
never  goin'  to  get  the  idea  again  that  he's  a  simon- 
pure,  dyed-in-the-wool  card  sharp." 

"Another  job?  Then  you're  disconnected  at 
present?" 

"  I'm  free  as  the  water.  Ugh !  "  he  shivered. 
"  I  couldn't  even  wash  my  face  in  it  this  mornin'. 
Water's  a  weak  sister  after  last  night."  His 
expression  changed.  "  I  reckon  you're  in  clover, 
though.  Any  man  which  can  laugh  to  hisself  as 
you  was  laughin',  certainly  ain't  botherin'  his  head 
about  much." 

This  quick  turn  of  the  conversation  brought 
Calumet's  thoughts  back  to  Betty.  "Looks  is 
deceivin',"  he  said.  "  I've  got  a  heap  of  burden 
on  my  mind.  I've  got  a  thousand  dollars  which 
is  botherin'  me  considerable." 
[127] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

The  puncher  sat  erect,  his  eyes  bulging. 

"You've  got  a  thousand!"  he  said  "Oh, 
Lordy!  An'  you're  botherin'  about  it?" 

"  It  ain't  none  of  your  business,  of  course," 
said  Calumet.  "An'  I  reckon  I'm  tellin'  you  about 
it  so's  you'll  feel  mean  about  losin'  your  own.  But 
mebbe  not.  Mebbe  I'm  tellin'  you  about  it  be 
cause  I've  got  somethin'  else  in  mind.  When  I 
first  seen  you  I  was  filled  clear  to  the  top  with 
doubt.  If  you  had  my  thousand  what  would  you 
do  with  it?" 

"  Meanin'  that  if  I  had  your  thousand  an'  was 
in  your  place?" 

"  I  reckon." 

"That  would  depend,"  said  the  puncher,  cau 
tiously.  "  If  I'd  robbed  a  man,  or  held  up  a 
stage  coach,  or  busted  a  bank,  I'd  be  burnin' 
the  breeze  out  of  the  country.  But  if  I'd  earned 
it  honest  I'd  blow  myself  proper,  beginnin'  by 
settin'  'em  up  to  a  fool  guy  which  had  give  all 
his  coin  to  some  card  sharps  yesterday." 

"  None  of  them  things  fill  the  bill,"  said  Calu 
met.  "  This  thousand  was  give  to  me  by  a  woman. 
I'm  to  buy  things  with  it  —  horses,  wagon,  lum 
ber,  hardware,  an'  such  truck." 

"Shucks,"  said  the  puncher,  disappointedly. 
[128] 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES 


Over  his  face  settled  a  glum  expression.  "  Then 
you  ain't  got  no  right  to  spend  it  —  for  anything 
but  what  she  told  you  about.  You'd  be  worse'n 
a  thief  to  squander  that  money." 

Calumet  looked  keenly  at  him.  "  I  reckon 
you're  more'n  half  right.  You've  settled  a  thing 
in  my  mind.  If  you're  hangin'  around  here  when 
I  get  through  buyin'  them  things  I'll  be  settin' 
them  up  to  you.  If  I've  got  anything  left."  He 
abruptly  broke  off  and  urged  his  pony  about, 
leaving  the  puncher  to  look  after  him  specula- 
tively. 

Two  hours  later  he  returned,  driving  two 
horses  which  were  hitched  to  a  wagon  of  the 
"prairie-schooner"  variety.  The  wagon  was 
loaded  with  lumber  and  sundry  kegs,  boxes  and 
packages.  Calumet's  pony  trailed  it. 

The  puncher  was  still  where  Calumet  had  left 
him  —  apparently  he  had  not  moved.  But  when 
he  saw  Calumet  halt  the  horses  in  front  of  him 
and  jump  out  of  the  wagon  he  got  to  his  feet. 
He  met  Calumet's  gaze  with  a  sober,  interested 
smile. 

"That  wagon  of  yours  is  speakin'  mighty 
loud  of  work,"  he  said.  "  Back  in  Texas  I  used 
to  be  counted  uncommon  clever  with  a  saw  an' 
[129] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

hammer.  If  you  can  rassle  them  two  statements 
around  to  look  them  in  the  face  you  can  see  what 
I'm  drivin'  at." 

"What  do  you  think  you  are  worth  to  a  man 
who  ain't  got  no  authority  to  do  any  hirin'  ? " 
said  Calumet. 

"Ain't  you  the  boss?"  said  Dade,  disappoint 
edly. 

"The  boss  is  a  woman.  If  you're  wantin'  to 
work  you  can  come  along.  You'll  have  to  take 
your  chance.  Otherwise — " 

"  I'll  go  you,"  said  the  puncher.  He  threw  his 
saddle  into  the  wagon.  "You  said  somethin' 
about  a  drink,"  he  added,  "  if  you  had  anything 
left.  I'm  hopin'— " 

Calumet  hesitated. 

"Just  one,"  said  Dade.  "  Mebbe  two.  Not 
more  than  three  —  or  four.  If  your  ranch  is 
far—" 

"  Twenty  miles." 

"About  two,  then,"  suggested  Dade.  "You 
wouldn't  feel  satisfied  to  know  that  it  was  here 
an'  you  left  it." 

"Well,  then,  get  a  move  on  you,"  growled 
Calumet.  He  followed  Dade  into  the  Red 
Dog. 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES 


It  was  quiet  in  the  barroom.  Three  men  sat 
at  a  table  near  the  center  of  the  room,  laughing 
and  talking.  They  looked  up  with  casual  interest 
as  Dade  and  Calumet  entered,  favored  them  with 
quick,  appraising  glances,  and  then  resumed  their 
talk  and  laughter.  Behind  the  bar  the  proprietor 
waited,  indolently  watching. 

"I'll  take  red-eye,"  said  Dade;  "the  same  that 
made  me  think  I  was  a  sure  enough  gambler  last 
night.  Did  you  ever  notice,"  he  added,  turning 
to  Calumet,  who  was  filling  his  glass,  "what  a 
heap  of  confidence  whisky  will  give  a  man?  Take 
me,  last  night.  Things  was  lookin'  rosy.  Them 
gamblers  looked  like  plumb  easy  pickin'.  The 
more  whisky  I  drank  the  easier  they  looked, 
until—" 

"Have  another  drink,"  invited  the  proprietor, 
for  it  was  at  one  of  his  tables  that  Dade  had 
played.  His  smile  was  bland  and  his  manner 
suave  and  smooth.  He  shoved  a  bottle  toward 
Dade.  At  the  same  time  he  looked  with  interest 
upon  Calumet 

"Stranger  here,  I  reckon?"  he  said.  "I  seen 
you  loadin'  a  heap  of  stuff  into  your  wagon. 
What's  your  ranch?" 

"Jhe  Lazy  Y." 

[131] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

The  proprietor  started  and  peered  closer  at 
Calumet.  "That's  old  Marston's  place,  ain't 
it?"  To  Calumet's  slow  nod,  he  continued: 
'"  Betty  Clayton's  runnin'  it  now.  They  say  old 
Marston  was  the  meanest  old  coyote  that 
•ever—" 

Calumet's  gaze  was  level  and  direct,  and  the 
proprietor  shrank  under  its  cold  malignance. 
Calumet  leaned  forward.  "You're  talkin'  to  the 
old  coyote's  son  right  now,"  he  said.  "An'  you 
can  speak  right  out  loud  in  meetin'  an'  say  that 
you  was  gassin'  through  your  hat!" 

The  proprietor  paled,  then  reddened.  "  I'm 
beggin'  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  I  reckon  —  you 
see  —  there's  been  talk — " 

"  Sure,"  said  Calumet.  He  smiled.  It  was 
the  smile  of  reluctant  tolerance.  "Just  talk,"  he 
added.  "But  it  won't  be  healthy  talk  —  here 
after." 

"Have  another  drink,"  invited  the  proprietor, 
and  he  pulled  a  handkerchief  from  a  pocket  and 
wiped  the  sudden  perspiration  from  his  forehead. 
Then  he  retreated  to  the  far  end  of  the  bar, 
from  whence  he  tried  to  appear  unconcerned. 

Dade  finished  his  drink  and  set  the  glass  down. 
But  he  was  visibly  excited. 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES 


"  Betty  Clayton,"  he  said,  looking  sharply  at 
Calumet.  "Has  she  got  a  granddad  named 
Malcolm  Clayton,  an'  a  brother  Bob?" 

"That's  her."  Calumet  returned  Dade's 
sharp  glance.  "What's  eatin'  you?  Know  her? 
Know  Bob?  Know  Malcolm?" 

"  Know  them !  "  said  Dade.  "  Why,  man,  they 
was  neighbors  of  mine  in  Texas !  " 

Calumet's  eyes  narrowed.  A  pulse  of  some 
strong  emotion  was  revealed  in  his  face,  but  it 
was  instantly  subdued.  "That's  joyful  news  — 
for  you.  So  you  know  her?  It's  likely  she'll  be 
glad  to  see  you." 

Dade  was  mystified  by  his  tone.  "  I  reckon 
I  ain't  gettin'  this  thing  just  right,"  he  said.  "  You 
told  me  Betty  was  runnin'  the  ranch,  an'  you  tell 
this  man  that  you're  the  son  of  the  man  that  owns 
it.  I  don't  see — " 

Calumet  smiled  saturninely.  "Take  another 
drink,"  he  advised.  He  shoved  the  bottle  toward 
Dade.  "This  is  your  fourth.  Then  we'll  be 
hittin'  the  breeze  to  the  Lazy  Y.  Betty'll  be  lone 
some  without  me."  He  laughed  raucously,  filled 
his  glass  and  drank  its  contents.  Then  he  turned 
from  the  bar  and  walked  toward  the  door.  Half 
way  to  it,  Dade  following  him,  he  halted,  for 

[133] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

the  voice  of  a  man  who  sat  at  a  table  reached 
him. 

"Aw,  Taggart,"  it  said  loudly,  "you're 
crowdin'  the  ante  a  little,  ain't  you?"  The 
speaker  laughed.  "  They  tell  me  that  Betty  Clay 
ton  ain't  no  man's  fool.  An'  here  you  say — " 
,The  rest  of  it  was  drowned  in  a  laugh  that  fol 
lowed,  the  other  two  men  joining  the  speaker. 

"  Stuck  on  me,  I  tell  you !  "  said  another  voice, 
and  Calumet,  half  turned  toward  the  table,  saw 
the  speaker's  face.  It  was  the  face  of  an  egotist 
—  the  vain,  sensuous  visage  of  a  man  in  whom 
the  animal  instincts  predominated — the  face  of 
the  rider  that  Calumet  had  seen  on  the  hill  in  the 
valley  on  the  day  of  his  return  —  the  face  of  the 
man  who  had  shot  at  him.  The  man  was  good- 
looking  in  a  coarse,  vulgar  way,  and  dissipated, 
gross,  self-sufficient.  Calumet's  eyes  narrowed 
with  dislike  as  he  looked  at  him.  There  was 
interest  in  his  glance,  too,  for  this  was  his  father's 
enemy  —  his  enemy.  But  after  the  first  look  his 
face  became  inscrutable.  He  turned  to  see  Bade 
standing  beside  him.  Dade  was  rigid,  pale;  his 
body  was  in  a  half-crouch  and  there  was  an  ex 
pression  of  cold  malignance  on  his  face.  Quickly 
Calumet  placed  both  hands  on  the  young  man's 
[134] 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES 


shoulders  and  shoved  him  back  against  the  bar, 
thrusting  his  own  body  between  him  and  Tag- 
gart. 

/      "  Easy  there,"  he  warned  in  a  whisper.     "  He's 
my  meat." 

Dade  caught  the  mirthless  smile  on  his  lips 
and  looked  at  him  curiously,  his  attitude  still 
belligerent. 

" He's  talkin'  about  Betty,  the  damned  skunk!  " 
he  objected.  His  voice  was  a  low,  throaty 
whisper  and  it  did  not  carry  to  the  table  where 
the  three  men  sat. 

"He  was  sure  talkin'  about  her,"  said  Calumet 
inexpressively.  "An'  I'll  admit  that  any  man  who 
talks  that  way  about  a  woman  is  what  you've 
called  him.  But  it's  my  funeral,"  he  added,  his 
voice  suddenly  cold  and  hard,  "  an'  you  ain't 
buttin'  in,  whatever  happens.  Buy  yourself  an 
other  drink,"  he  suggested;  "you  look  flustered. 
I'm  havin'  a  talk  with  Taggart." 

He  left  Dade  standing  at  the  bar  looking  at 
him  wonderingly,  and  made  his  way  slowly  to  the 
table  where  Taggart  sat.  Taggart  was  drinking 
when  Calumet  reached  his  side,  and  Dade  stood 
tense,  awaiting  the  expected  clash. 

But  none  came.     Calumet's  grin  as  he  nodded 
[135] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

to  Taggart  was  almost  friendly,  and  his  voice 
was  soft,  even  —  almost  gentle. 

"  I  heard  one  of  these  man  call  you  Taggart," 
he  said.  "I  reckon  you're  from  the  Arrow?" 

Taggart  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  insolently 
surveyed  his  questioner.  What  he  saw  in  Calu 
met's  face  made  his  own  pale  a  little. 

"I'm  Taggart,"  he  said  shortly — "Neal  Tag 
gart.  What  you  wantin'  of  me?" 

Calumet  smiled.  "  Nothin'  much,"  he  said. 
"  I  thought  mebbe  you'd  like  to  know  me.  We're 
neighbors,  you  know.  I'm  Marston  —  Calumet 
Marston,  of  the  Lazy  Y." 

The  color  receded  entirely  from  Taggart's 
face,  leaving  it  with  a  queer  pallor.  He  abruptly 
shoved  back  his  chair  and  stood,  his  eyes  alert  and 
fearful  as  his  right  hand  stole  slowly  toward  the 
butt  of  the  pistol  at  his  hip.  Calumet's  right 
hand  did  not  seem  to  move,  but  before  Taggart 
could  get  his  weapon  free  of  its  holster  he  saw 
the  sombre  muzzle  of  a  forty-five  frowning  at 
him  from  Calumet's  hip  and  he  quickly  drew  his 
own  hand  away — empty. 

"Shucks,"  Calumet's  voice  came  slowly  into 
the  silence  that  had  fallen  —  slowly  and  softly 
and  with  apparently  genuine  deprecation.  "If 
[136] 


'NEW  ACQUAINTANCES 


I'd  known  that  you  was  goin'  to  get  that  excited 
I'd  have  broke  the  news  different.  I  don't  know 
what  you're  gettin'  at,  trying  to  drag  your  gun 
out  that  way.  I  was  hopin'  we'd  be  friends.  We 
ought  to,  you  know,  bein'  neighbors." 

"  Friends?  "  Taggart  stepped  back  a  pace  and 
looked  at  Calumet  incredulously,  his  eyes  search 
ing  for  signs  of  insincerity.  He  saw  no  such  signs, 
for  if  Calumet  had  emotion  at  this  minute  it  was 
too  deep  to  be  uncovered  with  a  glance.  But  he 
knew  from  Taggart's  perturbation  that  the  latter 
knew  him  to  be  the  man  he  had  shot  at  that  day 
in  the  valley. 

Obviously,  he  had  not  then  had  any  suspicion 
as  to  his  identity  —  his  surprise  showed  that  he 
had  not.  And  his  half-fearful,  puzzled  looks  at 
Calumet  indicated  to  the  latter  that  he  was  won 
dering  whether  Calumet  recognized  him  as  the 
man  who  had  done  the  shooting. 

Calumet's  smile  was  cordial,  inviting,  even 
slightly  ingratiating,  and  watching  him  closely  Tag 
gart  was  convinced  that  he  was  not  recognized. 
Also  he  was  certain  that  Calumet  could  not  have 
learned  anything  of  the  trouble  between  their 
parents.  Yet  Betty  knew,  and  if  Betty  hadn't 
told  him  there  must  be  something  between  them 
[137] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

—  dislike  or  greed  on  Betty's  part  —  and  a  smile 
appeared  on  his  face  as  he  remembered  that  he 
had  heard  his  father  say  that  Calumet  had  been 
vicious  and  unmanageable  in  his  youth.     He  must 
be  at  odds  with  Betty. 

And  Betty — well,  a  shyster  lawyer  in  Las 
Vegas  had  told  Taggart  something  about  a  will 
which  old  Marston  had  made,  in  which  Betty  had 
been  named  as  beneficiary  of  the  property  in  case 
Calumet  failed  to  agree  to  certain  specifications, 
and  Taggart  was  ready  to  believe  that  Betty 
would  not  hesitate  to  bring  about  an  open  clash 
with  Calumet  in  order  to  gain  control  of  the 
ranch.  This  thought  filled  Taggart  with  a  sav 
age  exultation.  He  and  his  father  had  made 
very  little  progress  in  their  past  attacks  on  the 
Lazy  Y,  and  if  it  were  possible  to  set  Calumet 
against  Betty  there  might  come  an  opportunity 
to  drive  a  wedge  which  would  make  an  opening 

—  the  opening  they  had  long  sought  for.     At  all 
events  he  would  have  considered  himself  a  fool 
if  he  failed  to  take  advantage  of  this  opportunity 
to  ingratiate  himself  into  the  good  nature  of  this 
man. 

"Well,    that's    right,    I    reckon,"    he    said. 
"There  ain't  no  reason  that  I  know  of  why  we 
[138] 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES 


shouldn't  be  friends.     I'm  right  glad  to  see  you." 
He  stuck  out  his  right  hand,  but  it  appeared  that 
Calumet  did  not  notice  it,  for  he  laughed  as  he 
^replaced  the  pistol  in  its  holster. 

"  Same  here,"  he  said.  "  If  you're  passin'  the 
Lazy  Y  any  time,  drop  in  an'  visit.  I'm  fixin' 
her  up  a  few  —  enough  so's  I  can  live  in  the  old 
shack." 

Taggart  had  noted  with  a  lowering  frown  Cal 
umet's  omission  of  the  proffered  handshake,  but 
the  cordial  good  nature  of  the  smile  on  the  latter's 
face  was  unmistakable,  and  he  grinned  in  reply. 

"  I'll  sure  do  that,"  he  said. 

"  I'll  be  right  glad  to  have  you,"  said  Calumet. 
"Come  tomorrow  —  in  the  afternoon  —  any 
time." 

"You  reckonin'  on  bein'  the  boss  now?"  ques 
tioned  Taggart. 

Some   emotion   flickered   Calumet's   eyelashes. 
•'You've  said  somethin',"  he  returned;  "nobody's 
runnin'  me."      He  turned  and  walked  to  Dade, 
'who  had  been  watching  him  with  wrath  and  aston 
ishment. 

»  "  Drinkm'  ?  "  suggested  Taggart.  "  Have  a 
drink,  old  man,"  he  said,  with  celluloid  good 
fellowship. 

[139] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

Calumet  turned  with  a  grin.  "  Me  an'  my 
friend  has  got  to  the  end  of  our  capacity,"  he 
said.  "He's  workin'  for  me  an  I  ain't  settin' 
him  a  bad  example.  The  next  time,  if  you're 
in  the  humor,  I'll  be  glad  to  drink  all  you  can 
buy."  He  waved  a  hand  behind  him,  with  the 
other  he  was  pushing  Dade  before  him  toward  the 
door.  "  So-long,"  he  said,  as  he  and  Dade  went 
out 

Taggart  laughed  as  he  turned  to  his  compan 
ions,  who  had  said  nothing  during  the  conversa 
tion. 

"Friends!"  he  said;  "he's  green  an'  due  for 
a  shock! " 

Either  Taggart  or  the  proprietor  had  made  a 
mistake  in  their  estimate  of  Calumet.  For  at 
the  instant  Taggart  had  sneered  at  Calumet  to 
his  friends,  the  bartender,  who  had  come  in  while 
Taggart  and  Calumet  had  been  talking,  leaned 
over  to  listen  to  the  proprietor. 

"  In  Taggart's  place,"  said  the  proprietor,  "  I'd 
be  mighty  careful  of  that  man.  Friend,  eh? 
Well,  mebbe.  But  you  noticed  that  he  didn't  offer 
to  shake  hands  with  Taggart.  An'  he  wouldn't 
drink.  Reached  his  capacity!  He  had  four  in 
here.  Sober  as  a  judge !  Did  you  notice  his 
[140] 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES 


eyes?  They  fair  made  me  shiver  when  he  looked 
at  me  when  I  was  talkin'  about  his  old  man.  I'm 
goin'  to  be  damn  careful  about  my  palaver  after 
this.  Friend!  Well,  if  I  wasn't  his  friend  I'd 
be  damn  careful  not  to  rile  him ! " 

Outside  Dade  halted,  white  hot  with  rage. 

"  I  reckon  I  ain't  got  no  job  with  you,  you 
white-livered  — " 

The  muzzle  of  Calumet's  forty-five,  magically 
produced,  it  seemed,  so  quickly  did  it  show  in 
his  hand,  was  making  an  icy  ring  against  Dade's 
throat,  and  the  words,  the  epithet  for  which  he 
had  hesitated,  remained  unspoken.  Metallic, 
venomous  and  filled  with  a  threat  of  death  came 
Calumet's  voice. 

u  You  sufferin'  fool ! "  he  said,  the  words 
writhing  through  his  lips,  his  eyes  blazing.  "  It's 
my  game,  do  you  hear?  An'  if  you  gas  another 
word  about  it  I'll  tear  you  apart!  " 

"He  was  blackguardin'  Betty,"  objected  Dade, 
his  face  ashen,  but  his  spirit  still  undaunted. 
"  He  was  blackguardin'  her  an'  you  made  friends 
with  him.  I'd  have  salivated  him  if  I'd  thought 
you  wasn't  goin'  to.  I'm  goin'  back  there  now 
in'—" 

Calumet  stepped  back  a  pace  and  cocked  his  six- 
[141] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

shooter.  "  I  reckon  I  can't  make  you  understand 
that  it's  my  game,"  he  said  coldly.  "Walk  back 
wards  when  you  go  in,"  he  directed;  "I  don't 
want  to  plug  you  in  the  back." 

Dade  started  and  looked  intently  at  Calumet. 
"You  mean  that  it  ain't  ended  between  you  an* 
him  ?"  he  demanded.  / 

"  Some  people  would  have  tumbled  to  that  long 
ago,"  jeered  Calumet.  "But  kids  —  kids  take 
longer  to  sabe  a  thing.  I'm  glad  you're  over  it," 
he  added.  He  sheathed  his  pistol.  "  I  reckon 
we'll  be  goin',"  he  said.  "  Betty'll  begin  to  be 
lieve  I'm  lost." 

Dade  followed  him  to  the  wagon,  meekly 
enough  now  that  he  had  received  unmistakable 
proof  that  Taggart  was  Calumet's  "  game,"  and 
shortly  afterward  the  wagon  pulled  out  of  Lazette 
and  struck  the  trail  toward  the  Lazy  Y. 


[142] 


CHAPTER  XI 

PROGRESS 

CALUMET  had  some  thoughts  on  the  sub 
ject  but  they  were  all  inchoate  and  unsatis 
fying.  He  got  only  one  conclusion  out  of  them 
—  that  for  some  mysterious  reason  he  had  sur 
rendered  to  Betty  and  was  going  to  work  to  repair 
the  ranchhouse. 

On  the  morning  following  his  visit  to  Lazette 
he  sat  on  a  piece  of  heavy  timber  which  he  and 
Dade  had  lifted  a  few  minutes  before  to  some 
saw-horses  preparatory  to  framing.  Armed  with 
a  scratch  awl  and  a  square  Dade  was  at  the  other 
end  of  the  timber,  his  hat  shoved  back  from  his 
forehead  while  he  ran  his  fingers  through  his  hair 
as  though  pondering  some  weighty  problem. 
Watching  him,  Calumet  suffered  a  recurrence  of 
that  vague  disquiet  which  had  moved  him  the 
night  before  when  he  had  listened  to  the  cordial 
greeting  which  Betty  had  given  the  young  man. 
Old  friendship  had  been  between  the  two  and 
somehow  it  had  disturbed  Calumet.  He  did  not 
[143] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

know  why.  He  didn't  like  Betty,  but  at  the  same 
time  every  smile  that  she  had  given  Bade  the 
night  before  had  caused  some  strange  emotion  to 
grip  him.  And  he  liked  Bade,  too.  He  couldn't 
understand  that,  either. 

He  had  never  been  friendly  with  any  man. 
But  something  about  Bade  appealed  to  him;  he 
felt  tolerant  toward  him,  was  mildly  interested 
in  him.  He  thought  it  was  because  Bade  was 
boyish  and  impulsive.  Whatever  it  was,  he  knew 
of  its  existence.  It  was  not  a  deep  feeling;  it 
was  like  the  emotion  that  moves  a  large  animal 
to  permit  a  smaller  one  to  remain  near  it  —  a 
grudging  tolerance  which  may  develop  into  sin 
cere  friendship  or  at  a  flash  turn  into  a  furious 
hatred.  And  so  Bade's  security  depended  en 
tirely  upon  how  he  conducted  himself.  If  he 
kept  out  of  Calumet's  way,  all  well  and  good. 
But  if  he  interfered  with  him,  if,  for  instance,  he 
became  too  friendly  with  Betty,  there  would  come 
an  end  to  Calumet's  tolerance. 

And  so  there  was  a  glint  of  speculative  distrust 
in  Calumet's  eyes  as  he  sat  and  watched  Bade 
ponder.  Calumet  was  in  no  good  humor.  He 
felt  like  baiting  Bade. 

"What  you  clawin'  your  head  that  way  for?" 
[144] 


PROGRESS 


he  suddenly  demanded  as  Dade  continued  to  puz 
zle  over  his  problem. 

Dade  grinned.  "  I'm  goin'  to  halve  these  sills 
together.  But  I'm  wantin'  to  make  sure  that  the 
halves  will  be  made  reverse,  so's  they'll  fit.  An' 
I  don't  seem  to  be  able  to  fix  it  clear  in  my  mind." 

"You  was  braggin'  some  on  bein'  a  carpenter/' 

"  I  reckon  I  wasn't  doin'  no  braggin',"  denied 
Dade,  reddening  a  little. 

Calumet  fixed  a  hostile  eye  on  him.  "  Braggin* 
goes,"  he  said  shortly.  "  If  you'd  said  you  was 
a  barber,  now,  no  one  would  expect  you  to  fit 
any  sills  together.  But  when  you  say  you've 
done  carpenter  work  that  makes  it  different.  You 
ought  to  sabe  sills." 

Dade  laid  his  square  and  scratch  awl  down  on 
the  piece  of  timber  and  deliberately  seated  him 
self  on  the  saw-horse  beside  it.  He  looked  defi 
antly  at  Calumet.  A  change  had  come  over  him 
from  the  day  before  —  the  slight  deference  in 
his  manner  had  become  succeeded  by  something 
unyielding  and  hard. 

"Let's  get  on  an  understandin',"  he  said. 
"  You  can't  go  to  pickin'  on  me."  And  he  looked 
fairly  into  Calumet's  eyes  over  the  length  of  the 
timber. 

1 1451 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"I'm  gassin'  to  suit  myself,"  said  Calumet; 
"if  that  don't  size  up  right  to  you  you  can  pull 
your  freight." 

"You're  a  false  alarm,"  said  Dade  bluntly; 
"you  drive  me  plumb  weary." 

Before  his  voice  had  died  away  Calumet's 
hand  had  flashed  to  his  pistol  butt.  Why  he 
did  not  draw  the  weapon  was  a  mystery  known 
only  to  himself.  It  might  have  been  because 
Dade  had  not  moved.  Calumet's  lips  had  tensed 
over  his  teeth  in  a  savage  snarl;  they  still  held 
the  snarl  when  he  spoke. 

"You'll  swallow  that,"  he  said.  " Do  you  sabe 
my  idea?" 

"Nary  swallow,"  declared  Dade.  "False 
alarm  goes.  I've  got  you  sized  up  right." 

Calumet's  six-shooter  came  out.  His  eyes, 
blazing  with  a  wanton  fire,  met  Dade's  and  held 
them.  The  youngster's  lips  whitened,  but  his 
eyes  did  not  waver.  Death  twitched  at  Calumet's 
finger.  There  was  a  long  silence.  And  then 
Dade  spoke. 

"Usin'it?"hesaid. 

Into  Calumet's  blazing  eyes  came  a  slow  glint 
of  doubt,  of  reluctant  admiration.  His  lashes 
flickered,  the  blaze  died  down,  he^squinted,  a  cold, 
[146] 


PROGRESS 


amused  smile  succeeded  the  snarl.  He  laughed 
shortly,  looked  at  the  pistol,  and  then  slowly 
jammed  it  back  into  the  holster. 

"You're  too  good  to  lose,"  he  said.  "I'm 
savin'  you  for  another  time." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Dade  dryly,  though  the  ashen 
face  of  him  showed  how  well  he  realized  his 
narrow  escape.  "I  reckon  we  understand  each 
other  now.  I  can  see  by  the  way  you  yanked  out 
your  gun  just  now  and  by  the  way  you  got  the 
drop  on  Taggart  yesterday,  that  you're  some  on 
the  shoot.  But  I  ain't  none  scared  of  you.  An' 
now  I'm  tellin'  you  why  I  said  you're  a  false 
alarm.  I  was  talkin'  to  Betty  last  night.  She's 
read  up  a  bit,  an'  I'm  parrotin'  what  she  said 
about  you  because  it's  what  I  think,  too.  Your 
cosmos  is  all  ego.  That's  what  Betty  said. 
Brought  down  to  cases,  what  that  means  is  that 
you've  got  a  bad  case  of  swelled  head.  So  far 
as  you're  concerned  there's  only  one  person  in  the 
world.  That's  you.  Nobody  else  counts. 
You've  been  thinkin'  about  yourself  so  much  that 
you  can't  find  time  to  think  about  anybody  else. 
There's  other  people  in  the  world  as  good  as  you 
—  better.  Betty's  one  of  them.  She's  a  good 
girl  an'  you  an'  me'll  hitch  all  right  as  long  as 
[147] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

you  don't  go  to  bullyin'  her.     I   reckon  that's 
all." 

"  Meanin'  that  you'll  let  me  hang  around  as 
long  as  I'm  good,"  sneered  Calumet  in  a  danger 
ously  soft  voice.  He  was  trying  to  work  himself 
into  a  rage,  but  the  effort  was  futile.  Something 
in  Dade's  quiet,  matter-of-fact  voice  had  a  dulling, 
cooling  effect  on  him.  Besides,  he  knew  that  an 
attack  on  Dade  would  be  resented  by  Betty,  and 
he  felt  a  strange  reluctance  toward  further  an 
tagonizing  her.  "You  Texas  folks  are  sure 
clever  at  workin'  your  jaws,"  he  sneered,  when 
Dade  did  not  answer.  "  But  I  reckon  that  lets 
you  out.  When  I'm  lookin'  for  advice  from 
women  an'  kids  mebbe  I'll  call  on  you  an'  Betty, 
but  if  I  don't  you'll  understand  that  I'm  followin* 
my  own  trail.  You've  got  away  with  one  call 
because  —  well,  because  I  was  fool  enough  to  let 
you.  Mebbe  another  time  I  won't  feel  so  fool 
ish." 

There  were  few  words  spoken  between  them 
during  the  following  hours  of  the  morning,  though 
several  times  Dade  caught  Calumet  watching  him 
with  a  puzzled,  amused  smile  in  which  there  was 
a  sort  of  slumbering  ferocity.  By  the  middle 
of  the  morning  the  front  of  the  ranchhouse  had 
[148] 


PROGRESS 


been  raised  with  the  assistance  of  jacks,  the  old 
rotted  sills  taken  out  and  new  ones  substituted. 
About  an  hour  before  noon,  while  Calumet,  in 
woolen  shirt  and  overalls,  his  face  dirty,  his  hair 
tousled,  and  his  temper  none  too  good,  was  wedg 
ing  the  sill  tight  against  the  studding  above  it,  he 
became  aware  of  Betty  standing  near  him.  She 
nodded  toward  the  sill. 

"That  makes  an  improvement  already,"  she 
said. 

"Ye-es?"  he  said,  with  an  irritating  drawl. 

There  was  a  silence;  she  stood,  regarding  his 
back,  a  faint  smile  on  her  face. 

"  I  want  to  compliment  you  on  your  judgment 
of  horses,"  she  persisted,  in  an  attempt  to  make 
him  talk;  "the  ones  you  bought  are  fine." 

Calumet  drove  a  wedge  home  viciously.  But 
he  did  not  answer. 

"  I've  been  checking  up  your  other  purchases," 
she  went  on;  "and  I  find  that  you  followed  the 
list  I  gave  you  faithfully." 

He  turned  and  looked  up.  "Look  here,"  he 
said ;  "  I  got  what  you  wanted,  didn't  I  ?  There's 
no  use  of  gettin'  mush  headed  about  it.  I'd  have 
blowed  the  money  just  as  quick,  if  I'd  wanted  to." 

"But  you  didn't." 

[I49l 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"Because  you  didn't  want  me  to,  I  reckon?" 
he  sneered. 

"  No.  Because  you  wanted  to  be  fair." 
He  had  not  known  what  sort  of  an  answer  he 
had  expected  from  her,  but  the  one  he  got  embar 
rassed  him.  He  felt  a  reluctant  pleasure  over 
the  knowledge  that  she  had  faith  in  him,  but 
mingling  with  this  was  a  rage  against  himself 
over  his  surrender.  When  she  turned  from  him 
and  walked  over  to  Dade,  speaking  to  him  in  a 
low  voice,  he  could  not  have  told  which  affected 
him  most,  his  rage  against  himself  or  his  dis 
appointment  over  her  abrupt  leave-taking.  She 
irritated  him,  but  somehow  he  got  a  certain  pleas 
ure  out  of  that  irritation  —  which  was  a  wholly 
unsatisfying  and  mystifying  paradox.  He  cov 
ertly  watched  Dade  during  her  talk  with  him  and 
discovered  that  he  did  not  like  the  way  the  young 
man  looked  at  her;  he  was  entirely  too  familiar 
even  if  he  was  a  friend  of  the  family.  He  saw, 
too,  that  Betty  seemed  to  be  an  entirely  differenl 
person  when  talking  to  Dade.  For  one  thing 
she  seemed  natural,  which  she  didn't  seem  when 
talking  to  him.  Until  he  saw  her  talking  with 
Dade  he  had  been  able  to  see  nothing  in  her  man 
ner  but  restraint  and  stiff  formality,  but  figura- 
[ISO] 


PROGRESS 


tively,  when  in  Dade's  presence  she  seemed  to 
melt — she  was  gracious,  smiling,  cordial. 

Betty's  attitude  toward  him  during  the  noon 
meal  puzzled  him  much.  Some  subtle  change  had 
come  over  her.  Several  times  he  surprised  her 
looking  at  him,  and  at  these  times  he  was  certain 
there  was  approval  in  her  glances,  though  per 
haps  the  approval  was  mingled  with  something 
else  —  speculation,  he  thought. 

But  whatever  it  was,  he  had  not  seen  it  before. 
Had  he  known  that  Dade  had  told  her  about 
the  incident  of  the  Red  Dog  Saloon  he  would 
have  understood,  for  she  was  wondering  —  as 
Dade  had  wondered  —  why  he  had  pretended 
to  make  friends  with  Taggart,  why  he  had 
asked  the  Arrow  man  to  visit  the  Lazy  Y  that 
afternoon. 

After  dinner  Calumet  went  out  again  to  his 
work,  apparently  carefree  and  unconcerned,  if  we 
are  to  omit  those  thoughts  in  which  Dade  and 
Betty  figured.  Dade  watched  him  with  much 
curiosity,  for  the  incident  of  the  day  before  was 
still  vivid  in  his  mind,  and  if. there  had  been 
mystery  in  Calumet's  action  in  inviting  Taggart 
to  the  Lazy  Y  there  had  been  no  mystery  in  the 
words  he  had  spoken  outside  the  Red  Dog  Saloon 

[151] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

immediately  afterward:  "It's  my  game,  do  you 
hear?" 

But  along  toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon 
Dade  became  so  interested  that  he  forgot  all 
about  Taggart,  and  was  only  reminded  of  him 
when  looking  up  momentarily  he  saw  Calumet 
sitting  on  a  pile  of  timber  near  the  ranchhouse, 
leaning  lazily  forward,  his  elbows  resting  on  his 
knees,  his  chin  on  his  hands,  gazing  speculatively 
into  the  afternoon  haze.  Dade  noted  that  he  was 
looking  southward,  and  he  turned  and  followed 
his  gaze  to  see,  far  out  in  the  valley,  a  horseman 
approaching. 

Dade  had  turned  stealthily  and  thought  his 
movement  had  been  unobserved  by  Calumet, 
and  he  started  when  the  latter  slowly  re 
marked: 

"Well,  he's  comin',  after  all.  I  was  thinkin* 
he  wouldn't." 

"That's  him,  &11  right,  I  reckon,"  returned 
Dade.  He  shot  a  glance  at  Calumet's  face  —  it 
was  expressionless. 

There  was  a  silence  until  Taggart  reached  the 
low  hill  in  the  valley  where  on  the  day  following 
his  coming  to  the  Lazy  Y  Calumet  had  seen  Lone 
some,  before  the  dog  had  begun  the  stalk  that  had 
[152] 


PROGRESS 


ended  in  its  death.  Then  Calumet  turned  to 
Dade,  a  derisive  light  in  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you  reckon  Betty  will  be  glad  to  see 
him?" 

"I  don't  reckon  you  done  just  right  in  askin' 
him  here  after  what  he  said  in  the  Red  Dog," 
returned  Dade. 

Calumet  seemed  amused.  "  Shucks,  you're  a 
kid  yet,"  he  said.  He  ignored  Dade,  giving  his 
attention  to  Taggart,  who  was  now  near  the 
bunkhouse. 

Taggart's  coming  was  attended  with  interest 
by  Malcolm,  who,  hearing  hoofbeats  in  the  ranch- 
house  yard  came  to  the  door  of  the  bunkhouse 
where  he  had  been  doing  some  small  task;  by 
Bob,  who  hobbled  out  of  the  stable  door,  his  eyes 
wide;  and  by  Betty,  who,  forewarned  of  the  visit 
by  Dade,  had  come  out  upon  the  porch  and  had 
been  watching  his  approach. 

Dade  was  interested  also,  betraying  his  interest 
by  covertly  eyeing  Taggart  as  he  drew  his  pony 
to  a  halt.  But  apparently  Calumet's  interest  was 
largely  negative,  for  he  did  not  move  from  his 
position,  merely  glancing  at  Taggart  as  the  latter 
halted  his  pony,  grinning  mildly  at  him  and  speak 
ing  to  him  in  a  slow  drawl. 

[153] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"  Get  off  your  cayuse  an'  visit,"  he  invited. 

Taggart's  smile  was  wide  as  he  dismounted. 
He  did  not  seem  to  look  at  the  others  particu 
larly,  not  even  deigning  a  glance  at  Dade,  but 
his  gaze  fell  on  Betty  with  an  insolent  boldness 
that  brought  a  flush  to  that  young  lady's  face. 
There  was  a  challenge  in  the  look  he  gave  her. 
He  dismounted  and  bowed  mockingly  to  her, 
sweeping  his  hat  from  his  head  with  a  movement 
so  derisive  that  it  made  Dade  longingly  finger 
his  pistol  butt. 

Calumet  still  sat  on  the  pile  of  lumber.  His 
smile  was  engaging  even  if,  as  it  seemed  to  Dade, 
it  was  a  trifle  shallow.  But  now  Calumet  slowly 
got  to  his  feet.  He  stood  erect,  yawned,  and 
stretched  himself.  Then  turning,  his  back  to 
Taggart,  who  had  come  close  to  him,  he  looked 
at  Betty,  steadily,  intently,  with  a  command  show 
ing  so  plainly  in  his  eyes  that  the  girl  involuntarily 
started. 

"  Betty,"  he  said  slowly;  ucome  here." 

She  went  toward  him,  scarcely  knowing  why, 
yet  remotely  conscious  of  something  in  his  eyes 
that  warned  her  that  she  must  not  refuse  —  a  cold, 
sinister  gleam  that  hinted  of  approaching  trouble. 

She  walked  to  a  point  near  him  and  stood  look- 
[154] 


PROGRESS 


ing  at  him  wonderingly.  And  now  for  the  first 
time  since  the  beginning  of  their  acquaintance  she 
became  aware  of  a  quiet  indomitability  in  his 
character,  the  existence  of  which  she  had  sus 
pected  all  along  without  having  actually  sensed  it. 
She  saw  now  why  men  feared  him.  In  his  atti 
tude,  outwardly  calm,  but  suggesting  in  some 
subtle  way  the  imminence  of  deadly  violence;  in 
his  eyes,  steady  and  cold,  but  with  something  cruel 
and  bitter  and  passionate  slumbering  deep  in 
them ;  in  the  set  of  his  head  and  the  thrust  of  his 
chin,  there  was  a  threat  —  nay,  more  —  a  promise 
of  volcanic  action;  of  ruthless,  destroying  anger. 

Taggart,  apparently,  saw  nothing  of  these 
things.  He  looked  again  at  Betty,  his  heavy  face 
wreathed  in  an  insolent  half-smile.  She  saw  the 
look  and  instantly  flushed  and  stiffened.  But  it 
appeared  that  Calumet  noticed  nothing  of  her  agi 
tation  or  of  Taggart's  insulting  glance.  He  stood 
a  little  to  one  side  of  Taggart,  and  he  spoke 
slowly  and  distinctly: 

"Taggart,"  he  said;  "meet  my  boss,  Betty 
Clayton."  He  smiled  grimly  at  the  consterna 
tion  in  Betty's  face,  at  the  black  rage  in  Dade's. 

"  I  have  already  had  the  honor  of  meeting  Mr. 
Taggart,"  said  Betty  coldly.  "  If  that  is  what 
[1551 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

you — "  She  caught  a  glance  from  Calumet  and 
subsided. 

Taggart  was  deeply  amused;  he  guffawed 
loudly. 

"That's  rich,"  he  said.  "Why,  man,  I've 
knowed  her  ever  since  she's  been  here.  Me  an' 
her's  pretty  well  acquainted.  In  fact — " 

"Well,  now;  that's  odd,"  cut  in  Calumet 
dryly. 

"What  is?"  questioned  Taggart  quickly,  not 
ing  his  tone. 

"That  I  didn't  remember,"  said  Calumet. 

"Remember  what?"  inquired  Taggart. 

"That  I  heard  you  gassin'  about  Betty  to  your 
Red  Dog  friends.  You  rattled  it  off  pretty 
glibly.  You  ought  to  remember  what  you  said. 
I'm  wantin'  you  to  repeat  it  while  she's  watchin' 
you.  That's  why  I  wanted  you  to  come  over 
here." 

"  Why — "  began  Taggart.  Then  he  hesitated, 
an  embarrassed,  incredulous  light  in  his  shifting 
eyes.  He  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  not 
seeming  to  entirely  comprehend  the  significance 
of  the  command,  and  then  he  saw  the  gleam  in 
Betty's  eyes,  the  derisive  enjoyment  in  Dade's, 
the  implacable  glint  in  Calumet's,  knowledge  burst 
[156] 


PROGRESS 


upon  him  in  a  sudden,  sickening  flood  and  his 
face  paled.  He  looked  at  Calumet,  the  look  of 
a  trapped  animal. 

"Get    goin' ! "     said    the    latter;     we're    all 


WaitinV 


Taggart  cursed  profanely,  stepping  back  a  pace 
and  reaching  for  his  pistol.  But  as  in  the  Red 
Dog,  Calumet  was  before  him.  Again  his  right 
hand  moved  with  the  barely  perceptible  motion, 
and  his  six-shooter  was  covering  Taggart.  The 
latter  quickly  withdrew  his  own  hand,  it  was 
empty.  And  in  response  to  an  abrupt  movement 
of  Calumet's  hand  it  went  upward,  the  other  fol 
lowing  it  instantly.  Watchful,  alert,  Calumet 
stepped  forward,  plucked  Taggart's  pistol  from 
its  holster,  threw  it  a  dozen  feet  from  him,  swiftly 
passed  a  hand  over  Taggart's  shirt  and  waist 
band  and  then  stepped  back. 

"You've  got  a  minute,"  he  said.  "Sixty  sec 
onds  to  decide  whether  you'd  rather  die  with  your 
boots  on  or  get  to  talkin'.  Take  your  time,  for 
there  won't  be  any  arguin'  afterward." 

Taggart  looked  into  Calumet's  eyes.  What 
he  saw  there  seemed  to  decide  him.  "I  reckon 
it's  your  trick,"  he  said;  "I'll  talk." 

"  Get  goin'." 

[157] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"I  said  I'd  made  love  to  her." 

A  half-sneer  wreathed  Calumet's  face.  "  I 
reckon  that  covers  the  ground  pretty  well.  You 
didn't  say  it  that  way,  but  we  won't  have  you 
repeat  the  exact  words;  they  ain't  fit  to  hear. 
The  point  is,  did  you  tell  the  truth?" 

"No,"  said  Taggart.  He  did  not  look  at 
Betty  and  his  face  was  scarlet. 

"So  you  lied,  eh?  Lied  about  a  woman! 
There's  only  one  place  for  that  kind  of  a  man. 
Crawl  an'  tell  her  you're  a  snake ! " 

Taggart  had  partly  recovered  his  composure. 
"Guess  again,"  he  sneered.  "You're  buttin'  in 
where — " 

Calumet  dropped  his  pistol  and  took  a  quick 
step.  With  a  swish  his  right  hand  went  forward 
to  Taggart's  face,  one  hundred  and  eighty  pounds 
of  vengeful,  malignant  muscle  behind  it.  There 
was  the  dull,  strange  sound  of  impacting  bone  and 
flesh.  Taggart's  head  shot  backward,  he  crum 
pled  oddly,  his  legs  wabbled  and  doubled  under 
him  and  he  sank  in  his  tracks,  sprawling  on  his 
hands  and  knees  in  the  sand. 

For  an  instant  he  remained  in  this  position,  then 
he  threw  himself  forward,  groping  for  the  pistol 
Calumet  had  dropped.  Calumet's  booted  foot 
[158] 


PROGRESS 


struck  his  wrist,  and  with  a  bellow  of  rage  and 
pain  he  got  to  his  feet  and  rushed  headlong  at  his 
assailant.  Calumet  advanced  a  step  to  meet  him. 
His  right  fist  shot  out  again;  it  caught  Taggart. 
fairly  in  the  mouth  and  he  sank  down  once  more. 
He  landed  as  before,  on  his  hands  and  knees,  and 
for  an  instant  he  stayed  in  that  position,  his  head 
hanging  between  his  arms  and  swaying  limply 
from  side  to  side.  Then  with  an  inarticulate 
grunt  he  plunged  forward  and  lay  face  downward 
in  the  sand. 

Calumet  stood  watching  him.  He  felt  Betty's 
hand  on  his  arm,  laid  there  restrainingly,  but  he 
shook  her  viciously  off,  telling  her  to  "mind  her 
own  business."  Malcolm  had  come  forward;  he 
stood  behind  Betty.  Dade  had  not  moved,  though 
a  savage  satisfaction  had  come  into  his  eyes.  Bob 
stood  in  front  of  the  stable  door,  trembling  from 
excitement.  But  besides  Betty,  none  of  them 
attempted  to  interfere,  and  there  was  a  queer 
silence  when  Taggart  finally  got  to  his  feet. 

He  stood  for  an  instant,  glaring  around  at  them 
all,  and  then  his  gaze  at  last  centered  on  Calumet. 
Calumet  silently  motioned  toward  Betty. 

In  response  to  the  movement,  Taggart's  lips 
moved.  "  I'm  apologizin',"  he  said.  He  turned 

[159] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

to  his  horse.  After  he  had  climbed  into  the  saddle 
he  looked  around  at  Calumet.  He  sneered 
through  his  swollen  lips. 

"You'll  be  gettin'  what  I  owe  you,"  he  threat 
ened. 

"I'm  your  friend,"  jeered  Calumet.  "I've 
been  your  friend  since  the  day  you  tried  to  bore 
me  with  a  rifle  bullet  out  there  in  the  valley — 
the  day  I  come  here  —  after  runnin'  like  a  coyote 
from  the  daylight.  I've  got  an  idea  what  you 
was  hangin'  around  for  that  day  —  I've  got  the 
same  idea  now.  You're  tryin'  to  locate  that 
heathen  idol.  You're  wastin'  your  time.  You're 
doin'  more  —  you're  runnin'  a  heap  of  risk.  For 
what  you've  just  got  is  only  a  sample  of  what 
you'll  get  if  you  stray  over  onto  my  range  again. 
That  goes  for  the  sneakin'  thief  you  call  your 
father,  or  any  of  your  damned  crowd." 

He  stood,  slouching  a  little,  watching  Taggart 
until  the  latter  rode  well  out  into  the  valley.  Then 
without  a  word  he  walked  over  to  the  sill  upon 
which  he  had  been  working  before  the  arrival  of 
Taggart,  seized  a  hammer,  and  began  to  drive 
wedges  wherever  they  were  necessary. 

Presently  he  heard  a  voice  behind  him,  and  he 
turned  to  confront  Betty. 

[160] 


PROGRESS 


"I  heard  what  you  said  to  Taggart,  of  course, 
about  him  trying  to  shoot  you.  I  didn't  know 
that.  He  deserved  punishment  for  it.  But  I  am 
sure  that  part  of  the  punishment  you  dealt  him 
was  administered  because  of  the  way  he  talked 
about  me.  If  that  is  so,  I  wish  to  thank  you." 

"  You  might  as  well  save  your  breath,"  he  said 
gruffly;  "  I  didn't  do  it  for  you." 

She  laughed.  "Then  why  didn't  you  choose 
another  place  to  call  him  to  account?" 

He  did  not  answer,  driving  another  wedge 
home  with  an  extra  vicious  blow. 

She  watched  him  in  silence  for  an  instant,  and 
then,  with  a  laugh  which  might  have  meant  amuse 
ment  or  something  akin  to  it,  she  turned  and 
walked  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A   PEACE   OFFERING 

IF  there  was  one  trait  in  Betty's  character  that 
bothered  Calumet  more  than  another,  it  was 
her  frankness.  More  than  once  during  the  days 
that  followed  Neal  Taggart's  visit  Calumet  was 
made  to  feel  the  absence  of  guile  in  her  treat 
ment  of  him.  The  glances  she  gave  him  were  as 
straightforward  and  direct  as  her  words,  and  it 
became  plain  to  him  that  with  her  there  were  no 
mental  reservations.  Her  attitude  toward  him 
had  not  changed;  she  still  dealt  with  him  as  the 
school  teacher  deals  with  the  unruly  scholar — 
with  a  personal  aloofness  that  promised  an  ever- 
widening  gulf  if  he  persisted  in  defying  her  author 
ity.  Calumet  got  this  impression  and  it  grew  on 
him;  it  was  disconcerting,  irritating,  and  he  tried 
hard  to  shake  it  off,  to  no  avail. 

He  had  considered  carefully  the  impulse  which 

had  moved  him  to  entice  Taggart  to  the  Lazy  Y, 

and   was    convinced   that   it   had   been    aroused 

through  a  desire  to  take  some  step  to  avenge  his 

[162] 


'A  PEACE  OFFERING 


father.  He  told  himself  that  if  in  the  action 
there  had  been  any  desire  to  champion  Betty  he 
had  not  been  conscious  of  it.  It  angered  him  to 
think  that  she  should  presume  to  imagine  such  a 
thing.  And  yet  he  had  felt  a  throb  of  emotion 
when  she  had  thanked  him  —  a  reluctant,  savage, 
resentful  satisfaction  which  later  changed  to 
amusement.  If  she  believed  he  had  thrashed 
Taggart  in  defense  of  her,  let  her  continue  to 
believe  that.  It  made  no  difference  one  way  or 
another.  But  he  would  take  good  care  to  see  that 
she  should  have  no  occasion  to  thank  him  again. 
She  did  not  interfere  with  the  work,  which  went 
steadily  on.  The  ranchhouse  began  to  take  on  a 
prosperous  appearance.  Within  a  week  after  the 
beginning  of  the  work  the  sills  were  all  in,  the 
rotted  bottoms  of  the  studding  had  been  replaced, 
and  the  outside  walls  patched  up.  During  the  next 
week  the  old  porches  were  torn  down  and  new 
ones  built  in  their  places.  At  the  end  of  the  third 
week  the  roof  had  been  repaired,  and  then  there 
were  some  odds  and  ends  that  had  to  be  looked 
to,  so  that  the  fourth  week  was  nearly  gone 
when  Dade  and  Calumet  cleared  up  the  debris. 
It  was  Dade  who,  in  spite  of  Calumet's  remon 
strances,  went  inside  to  announce  the  news  to 
[163] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

Betty,  and  she  came  out  with  him  and  looked  the 
work  over  with  a  critical,  though  approving,  eye. 
Calumet  was  watching  her,  and  when  she  had  con 
cluded  her  inspection  she  turned  to  him  with  a 
smile. 

"Tomorrow  you  can  go  to  Lazette  and  get 
some  paint,"  she  said. 

"Want  it  done  up  in  style,  eh?" 

"Of  course,"  she  returned;  "why  not?" 

"That's  it,"  he  growled;  "why  not?  You 
don't  have  to  do  the  work." 

She  laughed.  "I  should  dislike  to  think  you 
are  lazy." 

He  flushed.  "  I  reckon  I  ain't  none  lazy."  He 
could  think  of  nothing  else  to  say.  Her  voice  had 
a  taunt  in  it;  her  attack  was  direct  and  merciless. 
She  looked  at  Dade,  whose  face  was  red  with  some 
emotion,  but  she  spoke  to  Calumet. 

"  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  complain  about  the 
work,"  she  said.  "You  were  to  do  it  alone,  but 
on  my  own  responsibility  I  gave  you  Dade." 

"  Pitied  me,  I  reckon,"  he  sneered. 

"Yes."  Her  gaze  was  steady.  "I  pity  you  in 
more  ways  than  one." 

"When  did  you  think  I  needed  any  pity?"  he 
demanded  truculently,  angered. 
[164] 


A  PEACE  OFFERING 


"Oh,"  she  said,  in  pretended  surprise,  "you 
are  in  one  of  your  moods  again!  Well,  I  am 
not  going  to  quarrel  with  you."  She  turned  ab 
ruptly  and  entered  the  house,  and  Calumet  fell 
to  kicking  savagely  into  a  hummock  with  the  toe 
of  his  boot.  As  in  every  clash  he  had  had  with 
her  yet,  he  emerged  feeling  like  a  reproved  school 
boy.  What  made  it  worse  was  that  he  was  begin 
ning  to  feel  that  there  was  no  justification  for  his 
rage  against  her.  As  in  the  present  case,  he  had 
been  the  aggressor  and  deserved  all  the  scorn  she 
had  heaped  upon  him.  But  the  rage  was  with 
him,  nevertheless,  perhaps  the  more  poignant 
because  he  felt  its  impotency.  He  looked  around 
at  Dade.  That  young  man  was  trying  to  appear 
unconscious  of  the  embarrassing  predicament  of 
his  fellow  workman.  He  endeavored  to  lighten 
the  load  for  him. 

"  She  certainly  does  talk  straight  to  the  point," 
he  said.  "  But  I  reckon  she  don't  mean  more'n 
half  of  it." 

Calumet  shot  a  malignant  look  at  him.  "  Who 
in  hell  is  askin'  for  your  opinion?"  he  demanded. 

The  paint,  however,  was  secured,  Calumet 
making  the  trip  to  Lazette  for  it.  He  returned 
after  dark,  and  Bob,  who  was  sitting  in  the  kitchen 
[165] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

where  Betty  was  washing  the  dishes,  hobbled  out 
to  greet  him.  Bob  had  been  outside  only  a  few 
minutes  when  Betty  heard  his  voice,  raised  joy 
ously.  She  went  to  a  rear  window,  but  the  dark 
ness  outside  was  impenetrable  and  she  could  see 
nothing.  Presently,  though,  she  heard  Bob's  step 
on  the  porch,  and  almost  instantly  he  appeared, 
holding  in  his  arm  a  three-month-old  puppy  of 
doubtful  breed.  He  radiated  delight. 

"Calumet  brought  it!"  he  said,  in  answer  to 
Betty's  quick  interrogation.  "  He  said  it  was  to 
take  the  place  of  Lonesome.  I  reckon  he  ain't  so 
bad,  after  all  —  is  he  Betty?" 

Betty  patted  the  puppy's  head,  leaning  over  so 
that  Bob  did  not  see  the  strange  light  in  her  eyes. 

"  He's  nice,"  she  said. 

"Who?"  said  Bob,  quickly  — "Calumet?" 

Betty  rose,  her  face  flushing.  "No,"  she  said 
sharply;  "  the  puppy." 

Bob  looked  at  her  twice  before  he  said,  in  a 
slightly  disappointed  voice,  "Uh-huh." 

When  Calumet  came  into  the  kitchen  half  an 
hour  later,  having  stabled  his  horses  and  washed 
his  face  and  hands  from  the  basin  he  found  on  the 
porch,  he  found  his  supper  set  out  on  the  table; 
but  Betty  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 
[166] 


A  PEACE  OFFERING 


"Where's  Betty?"  he  demanded  of  Bob,  who 
was  romping  delightedly  with  the  new  dog,  which 
showed  its  appreciation  of  its  new  friend  by 
yelping  joyously. 

"  I  reckon  she's  gone  to  bed,"  returned  the 
young  man. 

For  a  few  minutes  Calumet  stood  near  the  door, 
watching  the  dog  and  the  boy.  Several  times  he 
looked  toward  the  other  doors,  disappointment 
revealed  in  his  eyes.  Was  he  to  take  Betty's 
departure  before  his  arrival  as  an  indication  that 
she  had  fled  from  him?  He  had  seen  her  when 
she  had  pressed  her  face  to  the  window  some  time 
before,  and  it  now  appeared  to  him  that  she  had 
deliberately  left  the  room  to  avoid  meeting  him. 
He  frowned  and  walked  to  the  table,  looking 
down  at  the  food.  She  had  thought  of  him,  at 
any  rate. 

He  sat  at  the  table  and  took  several  bites  of 
food  before  he  spoke  again. 

"  Betty  see  the  pup  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Yep." 

"Like  him?" 

"Yep." 

He  hesitated,  while  Bob  looked  at  him,  intent 
for  more  questions.  He  had  liked  Calumet  from 
[167] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

the  first,  despite  the  killing  of  Lonesome.  He 
could  not  forget  the  gruff  words  of  consolation 
that  had  been  spoken  by  Calumet  on  that  occa 
sion —  they  had  been  sincere,  at  any  rate  —  his 
boy's  heart  knew  that.  He  worshiped  Calumet 
since  he  had  given  him  the  dog.  And  so  he  wanted 
to  talk. 

"  She  patted  him  on  the  head,"  he  said. 

"Just  what  did  she  say?"  inquired  Calumet. 

"  She  said  he  was  nice." 

"  Them  the  exact  words  ?  " 

"Yep." 

There  was  a  silence  again,  while  Calumet 
chewed  meditatively  at  his  food.  Bob  suspended 
play  with  the  puppy  to  watch  him. 

"  Well,"  said  Calumet  finally,  "  that  shows  just 
what  a  woman  knows  about  dogs  —  or  anything. 
He  ain't  none  nice,  not  at  all,  takin'  dogs  as  dogs. 
He's  nothin'  but  a  fool  yellow  mongrel." 

Bob  contemplated  his  benefactor,  sourly  at  first, 
for  already  he  and  the  dog  were  friends,  and  thus 
Calumet's  derogatory  words  were  in  the  nature  of 
a  base  slander.  But  he  reasoned  that  all  was  not 
well  between  Betty  and  Calumet,  and  therefore 
perhaps  Calumet  had  not  meant  them  in  exactly 
that  spirit 

[168] 


A  PEACE  OFFERING 


"Well,"  he  said  at  last,  "I  like  him  a  lot, 
anyway." 

"What's  that?"  said  Calumet,  startled.  He 
had  forgotten  about  the  dog.  He  had  been 
wondering  if  Betty  had  gone  to  bed,  or  whether 
she  was  in  the  sitting  room,  reading,  as  she 
was  accustomed  to  doing.  A  light  came  through 
the  sitting  room  door,  and  Calumet  had  been 
watching  it,  momentarily  expecting  to  see  Betty's 
shadow.  "What's  that?"  he  repeated.  "You 
like  him,  anyway?  Why?" 

"Because  you  gave  him  to  me,"  said  Bob, 
blushing  at  the  admission. 

Calumet  looked  at  him,  sourly  at  first;  and 
then,  with  a  crafty  grin  on  his  face  as  he  watched 
the  sitting  room  door,  he  raised  his  voice  so  that 
if  Betty  were  in  the  sitting  room  she  could  not 
help  hearing  it. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "you  like  him  because  I  gave 
him  to  you,  eh?  Shucks.  I  reckon  that  ain't  the 
reason  Betty  likes  him." 

Apparently  Bob  had  no  answer  to  make  to  this, 
for  he  kept  silent.  But  Calumet  saw  a  shadow 
cross  the  sitting  room  floor,  and  presently  he 
heard  a  light  footstep  on  the  stairs.  He  smiled 
and  went  on  eating. 

[169] 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SUSPICION 

'TF  the  repairs  on  the  ranchhouse  were  not 
JL  finished  by  this  time  you  would  not  be  read 
ing  this,"  began  a  letter  drawn  from  a  tightly 
sealed  envelope  Betty  had  given  Calumet  after  he 
and  Dade  had  completed  the  painting.  Supper 
had  been  over  for  some  time,  but  the  dishes  had 
not  yet  been  cleared  away,  and  when  Betty  had 
handed  Calumet  the  letter  he  had  shoved  the 
tablecloth  back  to  make  room  for  his  elbows  while 
he  read.  Bob  had  gone  to  bed;  Malcolm  and 
Dade  were  somewhere  outside.  Calumet  had 
started  to  go  with  them,  but  had  remained  when 
Betty  had  told  him  quietly  that  she  wanted  to  talk 
to  him  on  a  matter  of  importance.  She  sat  oppo 
site  him  now,  unconcernedly  balancing  a  knife  on 
the  edge  of  a  coffee  cup,  while  she  waited  for  him 
to  finish  reading  the  letter. 

"Therefore,"    continued   the   letter,    uby   this 
time  your  heart  must  have  softened  a  little  toward 
[170] 


SUSPICION 


me.  I  am  certain  of  this,  for  I  know  that,  in  spite 
of  your  other  weaknesses,  that  cupidity  and  greed 
have  no  place  in  your  mental  make-up.  I  know, 
too,  that  you  are  no  fool,  and  by  this  time  you 
must  have  digested  my  first  letter,  and  if  you  have 
you  are  not  blaming  me  as  much  as  you  did  in  the 
beginning. 

"  I  have  talked  this  over  with  Betty,  and  she  is 
of  the  opinion  that  as  you  have  thus  far  obeyed 
my  wishes  you  should  be  permitted  to  have  a  free 
hand  henceforth,  for  she  insists  that  perhaps  by 
this  time  the  restraint  she  has  put  on  you  will 
have  resulted  in  you  hating  her,  and  in  that  case 
she  says  she  will  not  care  to  remain  here  any 
longer.  But  as  I  have  said,  I  do  not  think  you 
are  a  fool,  and  nobody  but  a  fool  could  hate 
Betty.  So  I  have  persuaded  her  that  even  if 
you  should  come  to  look  upon  her  in  that  light 
she  owes  it  to  me  to  stay  until  the  conditions  are 
fulfilled. 

"  It  is  my  own  hope  that  by  this  time  you  have 
made  friends  with  her.  Perhaps  —  I  am  not  going 
to  offer  you  any  advice,  but  Betty  is  a  jewel,  and 
you  might  do  worse.  You  probably  will  if  you 
haven't  sense  enough  to  take  her  —  if  you  can  get 
her.  I  have  given  her  your  picture,  and  she  likes 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

you  in  spite  of  the  reputation  I  have  given  you. 
She  says  you  have  good  eyes.  Now,  if  a  girl 
once  gets  in  that  mood  there's  no  end  of  the  things 
she  won't  do  for  a  man.  And  the  man  would  be 
an  ingrate  if  he  didn't  try  to  live  up  to  her  speci 
fications  after  he  found  that  out.  That's  why  I 
am  telling  you.  Faith  made  a  certain  disciple 
walk  on  the  water,  and  lack  of  it  caused  the  same 
one  to  sink.  Do  a  little  thinking  just  here.  If 
you  do  you  are  safe,  and  if  you  don't  you  are  not 
worth  saving. 

"This  is  all  about  Betty.  Whatever  happens, 
I  think  she  will  be  a  match  for  you. 

"  Betty  will  give  you  another  thousand  dollars. 
With  it  you  will  fix  up  the  corrals,  the  bunkhouse, 
and  the  stable. 

"Perhaps  you  will  want  to  know  why  I  have 
not  so  much  faith  in  you  as  Betty  has.  It  is 
because  one  day  a  man  from  the  Durango  country 
stopped  here  for  a  day.  He  told  me  he  knew 
you  —  that  you  were  cold-blooded  and  a  hard 
case.  Then  I  knew  you  hadn't  improved  after 
leaving  home.  And  so  you  must  continue  to  do 
Betty's  will,  and  mine.  Do  you  doubt  this  is  for 
your  own  good? 

"YOUR  FATHER." 


SUSPICION 


When  Calumet  folded  the  letter  and  placed  it 
in  a  pocket,  he  leaned  his  arms  on  the  table  again 
and  regarded  Betty  intently. 

"  Do  you  know  what  is  in  this  letter?"  he  said, 
tapping  the  pocket  into  which  he  had  placed  it. 

"No." 

"There  is  something  missing  from  the  letter, 
ain't  there?" 

"Yes,"  she  returned;  "a  thousand  dollars." 
She  passed  it  over  to  him.  As  before,  there 
were  ten  one-hundred-dollar  bills. 

His  eyes  flashed  with  mocking  triumph.  "  If 
you  don't  know  what  is  in  this  letter  —  if  you 
didn't  read  it  —  how  do  you  know  that  I  am  to 
have  this  money?"  he  said. 

She  silently  passed  over  another  envelope  and 
watched  him  with  a  smile  of  quiet  contempt  as  he 
removed  the  contents  and  read: 

"BETTY:  —  Give  Calumet  a  thousand  dollars 
when  you  turn  over  letter  number  three  to  him. 

"JAMES  MARSTON." 

Calumet  looked  at  the  envelope;  Betty's  name 
was  on  the  face  of  it.     The  triumph  in  his  eyes 
was  succeeded  by  embarrassment.    He  looked  up 
to  see  Betty's  amused  gaze  on  him. 
[173] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"Well?"  she  questioned. 

"Most  women  would  have  read  it,"  he  said. 
He  got  up  and  went  outside,  leaving  her  to  look 
after  him,  not  knowing  whether  he  had  meant  to 
compliment  her  or  not. 

He  found  Bade  and  Malcolm  standing  near 
the  stable.  There  was  a  brilliant  moon.  At 
Dade's  invitation  they  all  went  down  to  the  bunk- 
house.  In  spite  of  the  dilapidated  appearance  of 
its  exterior,  the  interior  of  the  building  was  in 
comparatively  good  condition  —  due  to  the  con 
tinual  tinkering  of  Malcolm,  who  liked  to  spend 
his  idle  hours  there  —  and  Malcolm  lighted  a 
candle,  placed  it  on  the  rough  table,  took  a  deck 
of  cards  from  the  shelf,  and  the  three  played 
"pitch"  for  two  hours.  At  the  end  of  that  time 
Malcolm  said  he  was  going  to  bed.  Dade  signi 
fied  that  he  intended  doing  likewise.  He  occupied 
half  of  Calumet's  bed.  Since  the  day  following 
the  clash  with  Dade,  Calumet  had  insisted  on  this. 
1  "Just  to  show  you  that  what  you  said  ain't 
botherin'  me  a  heap,"  he  had  told  Dade.  "  You're 
still  yearlin'  and  need  some  one  to  keep  an  eye  on 
you,  so's  some  careless  son  of  a  gun  won't  herd- 
ride  you." 

That  Dade  accepted  this  in  the  spirit  in  which 
[174] 


SUSPICION 


it  was  spoken  made  it  possible  for  them  to  bunk 
together  in  amity.  If  Dade  had  "  sized  up  "  Calu 
met,  the  latter  had  made  no  mistake  in  Dade. 

Dade  snuffed  out  the  candle  and  followed 
Malcolm  out.  The  latter  went  immediately  to 
the  ranchhouse,  but  Dade  lingered  until  Calumet 
stepped  down  from  the  door  of  the  bunkhouse. 

"  Bed  suits  me,"  suggested  Dade.     "  Comin'  ?  " 

"  I'm  smokin'  a  cigarette  first,"  said  Calumet 
"  Mebbe  two,"  he  added  as  an  afterthought. 

He  watched  Malcolm  go  in;  saw  the  light  from 
the  lamp  on  the  table  in  the  kitchen  flare  its  light 
out  through  the  kitchen  door  as  Dade  entered; 
heard  the  door  close.  The  lamp  still  burned  after 
he  had  seen  Dade's  shadow  vanish,  and  he  knew 
that  Dade  had  gone  upstairs.  Dade  had  left  the 
light  burning  for  him. 

Alone,  Calumet  rolled  the  cigarette  he  had 
promised  himself,  lit  it,  and  then,  in  the  flood  of 
moonlight,  walked  slowly  around  the  bunkhouse, 
estimating  the  material  and  work  that  would  be 
necessary  to  repair  it.  Then,  puffing  at  his  cigar 
ette,  he  made  a  round  of  the  corral  fence.  It  was 
a  long  trip,  and  he  stopped  twice  to  roll  new 
cigarettes  before  he  circled  it.  Then  he  examined 
the  stable.  This  finished,  he  stepped  over  to  the 

[175] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  7 

corral  fence,  leaned  his  arms  on  the  top  rail,  and, 
in  the  moonlight  that  came  over  his  shoulder,  re 
read  his  father's  letter,  making  out  the  picturesque 
chirography  with  difficulty. 

As  during  the  first  days  of  his  return,  when  he 
had  watched  the  army  of  memories  pass  in  review, 
he  lingered  over  them  now,  and,  to  his  surprise, 
discovered  that  he  felt  some  little  regret  over  his 
own  conduct  in  those  days  preceding  his  leave- 
taking.  To  be  sure,  he  had  been  only  a  boy  at 
that  time,  but  he  had  been  a  man  since,  and  the 
cold  light  of  reason  should  have  shown  him  that 
there  must  have  been  cause  for  his  father's  brutal 
treatment  of  him  —  if  indeed  it  had  been  brutal. 
In  fact,  if  he  had  acted  in  his  youth  as  he  had 
acted  since  reaching  maturity,  there  was  small 
reason  to  wonder  that  he  had  received  blows. 
Boys  needed  to  be  reprimanded,  punished,  and 
perhaps  he  had  deserved  all  he  had  received. 

The  tone  of  his  father's  letters  was  dis 
tinctly  sorrowful.  Remorse,  sincere  remorse,  had 
afflicted  him.  His  father  had  been  wronged, 
misled,  betrayed,  and  humiliated  by  the  Taggarts, 
and  as  Calumet  stood  beside  the  corral  fence  he 
found  that  all  his  rage  —  the  bitter,  malignant 
hatred  which  had  once  been  in  his  heart  against 
[176]  - 


SUSPICION 


his  father — had  vanished,  that  it  had  been  suc 
ceeded  by  an  emotion  that  was  new  to  him  —  pity. 

An  hour,  two  hours,  passed  before  he  turned 
and  walked  toward  the  ranchhouse.  His  lips 
were  grim  and  white,  tell-tale  signs  of  a  new 
resolve,  as  he  stepped  softly  upon  the  rear  porch, 
stealthily  opened  the  kitchen  door,  and  let  him 
self  in.  He  halted  at  the  table  on  which  stood 
the  kerosene  lamp,  looking  at  the  chair  in  which 
he  had  been  sitting  some  hours  before  talking  to 
Betty,  blinking  at  the  chair  in  which  she  had  sat, 
summoning  into  his  mind  the  picture  she  had  made 
when  he  had  voiced  his  suspicions  about  her 
knowledge  of  the  contents  of  the  letter  she  had 
given  him.  "Nobody  but  a  fool  could  hate 
Betty,"  the  letter  had  read.  And  at  the  instant 
he  had  read  the  words  he  had  known  that  he 
didn't  hate  her.  But  he  was  a  fool,  just  the  same; 
he  was  a  fool  for  treating  her  as  he  did  —  as  Dade 
had  said.  He  had  known  that  all  along;  he  knew 
that  was  the  reason  why  he  had  curbed  his  rage 
when  it  would  have  driven  him  to  commit  some 
rash  action.  He  had  been  a  fool,  but  had  he  let 
himself  go  he  would  have  been  a  bigger  one. 

Betty  had  appraised  him  correctly — "sized 
him  up,"  in  Dade's  idiomatic  phraseology  —  and 
[177] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

knew  that  his  vicious  impulses  were  surface  ones 
that  had  been  acquired  and  not  inherited,  as  he 
had  thought.  And  he  was  strangely  pleased. 

He  looked  once  around  the  room,  noting  the 
spotless  cleanliness  of  it  before  he  blew  out  the 
light.  And  then  he  stepped  across  the  floor  and 
into  the  dining-room,  tip-toeing  toward  the  stairs, 
that  he  might  awaken  no  one.  But  he  halted  in 
amazement  when  he  reached  a  point  near  the 
center  of  the  room,  for  he  saw,  under  the 
threshold  of  the  door  that  led  from  the  dining- 
room  to  his  father's  office,  a  weak,  flickering  beam 
of  light. 

The  door  was  tightly  closed.  He  knew  from 
the  fact  that  no  light  shone  through  it  except 
from  the  space  between  the  bottom  of  it  and  the 
threshold  that  it  was  barred,  for  he  had  locked 
the  door  during  the  time  he  was  repairing  the 
house,  and  had  satisfied  himself  that  it  could  not 
be  tightly  closed  unless  barred.  Someone  was  in 
the  room,  too.  He  heard  the  scuffle  of  a  foot, 
the  sound  of  a  chair  scraping  on  the  floor.  He 
stood  rigid  in  the  darkness  of  the  dining-room, 
straining  his  ears  to  catch  another  sound. 

For  a  long  time  he  could  hear  only  muffled 
undertones  which,  while  they  told  him  that  there 


SUSPICION 


were  two  or  more  persons  in  the  room,  gave  him 
no  clue  to  their  identity.  And  then,  as  he  moved 
closer  to  the  door,  he  caught  a  laugh,  low,  but 
clear  and  musical. 

It  was  Betty's!  He  had  heard  it  often  when 
she  had  been  talking  to  Dade;  she  had  never 
laughed  in  that  voice  when  talking  to  him  1 

He  halted  in  his  approach  toward  the  door, 
watching  the  light  under  it,  listening  intently, 
afflicted  with  indecision.  At  first  he  felt  only  a 
natural  curiosity  over  the  situation,  but  as  he  con 
tinued  to  stand  there  he  began  to  feel  a  growing 
desire  to  know  who  Betty  was  talking  to.  To  be 
sure,  Betty  had  a  right  to  talk  to  whom  she 
pleased,  but  this  talk  behind  a  barred  door  had 
an  appearance  of  secrecy.  And  since  he  knew 
of  no  occasion  for  secrecy,  the  thing  took  on  an 
element  of  mystery  which  irritated  him.  He 
smiled  grimly  in  the  darkness,  and  with  infinite 
care  sat  down  on  the  floor  and  removed  his  boots. 
Then  he  stole  noiselessly  over  to  the  door  and 
placed  an  ear  against  it. 

Almost  instantly  he  heard  a  man's  voice.  He 
did  not  recognize  it,  but  the  words  were  suffi 
ciently  clear  and  distinct.  There  was  amusement 
in  them. 

[179] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"  So  you're  stringin'  him  along  all  right,  then?  '* 
said  the  voice.  "I've  got  to  hand  it  to  you  — 
you're  some  clever." 

"  I  am  merely  following  instructions."  This  in 
Betty's  voice. 

The  man  chuckled.  "He's  a  hard  case.  I 
expected  he'd  have  you  all  fired  out  by  this 
time." 

Betty  laughed.  "  He  is  improving  right  along," 
she  said.  "  He  brought  Bob  another  dog  to 
replace  Lonesome.  I  felt  sorry  for  him  that 
night." 

"Well,"  said  the  man,  "I'm  glad  he's  learnin'. 
I  reckon  he's  some  impatient  to  find  out  where 
the  idol  is?" 

"Rather,"  said  Betty.  "And  he  wanted  the 
money  right  away." 

The  man  laughed.  "Well,"  he  said,  "keep 
stringin'  him  along  until  we  get  ready  to  lift  the 
idol  from  its  hidin'  place.  I've  been  thinkin'  that 
it'd  be  a  good  idea  to  take  the  durn  thing  over  to 
Las  Vegas  an'  sell  it.  The  money  we'd  get  for 
it  would  be  safer  in  the  bank  than  the  idol  where 
it  is.  An'  we  could  take  it  out  when  we  get 
ready." 

"No,"  said  Betty  firmly;   "we  will  leave  the 
[180] 


SUSPICION 


idol  where  it  is.  No  one  but  me  knows,  and  I 
certainly  will  not  tell." 

"You're  the  boss,"  said  the  man.  He  laughed 
again,  and  then  both  voices  became  inaudible  to 
Calumet. 

A  cold,  deadly  rage  seized  Calumet.  Betty 
was  deceiving  him,  trifling  with  him.  Some  plan, 
that  she  had  in  mind  with  reference  to  him  was 
working  smoothly  and  well,  so  successfully  that 
her  confederate  —  for  certainly  the  man  in  the 
room  with  her  must  be  that — was  distinctly 
pleased.  Betty,  to  use  the  man's  words,  was 
"stringing"  him.  In  other  words,  she  was 
making  a  fool  of  him  I 

Those  half-formed  good  resolutions  which 
Calumet  had  made  a  few  minutes  before  enter 
ing  the  house  had  fled  long  ago;  he  snarled  now 
as  he  realized  what  a  fool  he  had  been  for  mak 
ing  them.  Betty  had  been  leading  him  on.  He 
had  been  under  the  spell  of  her  influence;  he  had 
been  allowing  her  to  shape  his  character  to  her 
will;  he  was,  or  had  been,  in  danger  of  becoming 
a  puppet  which  she  could  control  by  merely  pull 
ing  some  strings.  She  had  been  working  on  his 
better  nature  with  selfish  aims. 

Who  was  the  man?  Malcolm?  Dade?  He 
[181] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

thought  not;  the  voice  sounded  strangely  like 
Neal  Taggart's.  This  suspicion  enraged  him, 
and  he  stepped  back,  intending  to  hurl  himself 
against  the  door  in  an  effort  to  smash  it  in.  But 
he  hesitated,  leered  cunningly  at  the  door,  and 
then  softly  and  swiftly  made  his  way  upstairs. 

He  went  first  to  his  own  room,  for  he  half 
suspected  that  it  might  be  Dade  who  was  down 
stairs  with  Betty,  and  if  it  was —  Well,  just 
now  he  remembered  vividly  how  Dade  had  defied 
him,  and  he  made  a  mental  vow  that  if  it  were 
Dade  who  was  with  Betty  the  young  man  would 
leave  the  Lazy  Y  before  dawn  quite  suddenly. 
But  it  was  not  Dade.  Dade  was  in  bed,  snoring, 
stretched  out  comfortably. 

Calumet  slipped  out  of  the  room  and  went  to 
Malcolm's.  Both  Bob  and  Malcolm  were  sound 
asleep.  He  hesitated  for  an  instant,  and  then 
made  his  way  slowly  downstairs.  Again  he 
listened  at  the  door.  Betty  and  the  man  were 
still  talking. 

Calumet  found  his  boots.  He  decided  not  to 
put  them  on  until  he  got  to  the  kitchen  door,  for 
he  was  determined  to  go  around  the  outside  of 
the  house  and  lay  in  wait  for  Betty's  confederate, 
and  he  did  not  want  to  make  any  sound  that  would 
[182] 


SUSPICION 


scare  him  off.  He  was  proceeding  stealthily, 
directing  his  course  through  the  darkness  by  a 
stream  of  moonlight  that  came  in  through  one  of 
the  kitchen  windows,  and  had  almost  reached  the 
kitchen  door  when  his  feet  struck  an  obstruction — 
something  soft  and  yielding. 

There  was  a  sudden  scurrying,  a  sharp,  terrified 
yelp. 

Calumet  cursed.  It  was  Bob's  pup.  The 
animal  planted  himself  in  the  stream  of  moon 
light  that  came  in  through  the  window,  facing 
Calumet  and  emitting  a  series  of  short,  high- 
pitched,  resentful  barks. 

There  was  humor  in  this  situation,  but  Calu 
met  did  not  see  it.  He  heard  a  cry  of  surprise 
from  the  direction  of  the  dining-room,  and  he 
turned  just  in  time  to  see  the  office  door  closing 
on  a  flood  of  light. 

With  savage  energy  and  haste,  he  pulled  on  his 
boots,  darted  out  of  the  house,  ran  across  the  rear 
porch,  leaped  down,  and  ran  around  the  nearest 
corner  of  the  house.  As  he  ran  he  jerked  his 
pistol  from  its  holster. 

When  he  got  to  the  front  of  the  house  he 
bounded  to  the  door  of  the  office  and  threw  it 
violently  open,  expecting  to  surprise  Betty  and 
[183] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

her  confederate.  He  was  confronted  by  a  dense 
blackness.  He  dodged  back,  fearing  a  trap,  and 
then  lighted  a  match  and  held  it  around  the  cor 
ner  of  one  of  the  door  jambs.  After  the  match 
was  burning  well  he  threw  it  into  the  room  and 
then  peered  after  it.  There  came  no  reply  to  this 
challenge,  and  so  he  strode  in  boldly,  lighting 
another  match. 

The  room  was  empty. 

He  saw  how  it  was.  Betty  and  the  man  had 
heard  the  barking  of  the  dog  and  had  suspected 
the  presence  of  an  eavesdropper.  The  man  had 
fled.  Probably  by  this  time  Betty  was  in  her 
room.  Calumet  went  out  upon  the  porch,  leaped 
off,  and  ran  around  the  house  in  a  direction  oppo 
site  that  which  had  marked  his  course  when 
coming  toward  the  front,  covering  the  ground 
with  long,  swift  strides.  He  reasoned  that  as  he 
had  seen  no  one  leave  the  house  from  the  other 
side  or  the  front,  whoever  had  been  with  Betty 
had  made  his  escape  in  this  direction,  and  he  drew 
a  breath  of  satisfaction  when,  approaching  some 
underbrush  near  the  kitchen,  he  saw  outlined  in 
the  moonlight  the  figure  of  a  man  on  a  horse. 

The  latter  had  evidently  just  mounted,  for  at 
the  instant  Calumet  saw  him  he  had  just  settled 
[184] 


SUSPICION 


into  the  saddle,  one  foot  searching  for  a  stirrup. 
He  was  about  seventy-five  feet  distant,  and  he 
turned  at  about  the  instant  that  Calumet  saw  him. 
That  instant  was  enough  for  Calumet,  for  as  the 
man  turned  his  face  was  bathed  for  a  fraction  of 
a  second  in  the  moonlight,  and  Calumet  recog 
nized  him.  It  was  Neal  Taggart. 

Calumet  halted.  His  six-shooter  roared  at  the 
exact  second  that  the  man  buried  his  spurs  in  the 
flanks  of  his  horse  and  threw  himself  forward 
upon  its  neck. 

The  bullet  must  have  missed  him  only  by  a 
narrow  margin,  but  it  did  miss,  for  he  made  no 
sign  of  injury.  His  instant  action  in  throwing 
himself  forward  had  undoubtedly  saved  his  life. 
Calumet  swung  the  pistol  over  his  head  and 
brought  it  down  to  a  quick  level,  whipping  an 
other  shot  after  the  fleeing  rider.  But  evidently 
the  latter  had  anticipated  the  action,  for  as  he 
rode  he  jumped  his  horse  from  one  side  to  an 
other,  and  as  the  distance  was  already  great,  and 
growing  greater,  he  made  an  elusive  target. 

Calumet  saw  his  failure  and  stood  silent,  watch 
ing  until  Taggart  was  well  out  into  the  valley, 
riding  hard,  a  cloud  of  dust  enveloping  him.  A 
yell  reached  Calumet  from  the  distance  —  deri- 

[185] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

sive,  defiant,  mocking.  Calumet  cursed  then, 
giving  voice  to  his  rage  and  disappointment. 

He  went  glumly  around  to  the  front  of  the 
house  and  closed  the  door  to  the  office.  When 
•  he  stepped  off  the  porch,  afterward,  intending  to 
go  around  the  way  he  had  come  in  order  to  enter 
the  house,  he  heard  a  voice  above  him,  and  turned 
to  see  Dade,  his  head  sticking  out  of  an  upstairs 
window,  his  hair  in  disorder,  his  eyes  bulging,  a 
forty-five  gleaming  in  his  hand.  Back  of  him,  his 
head  over  Dade's  shoulder,  stood  Malcolm,  and 
Bob's  thin  face  showed  between  the  two. 

At  another  window,  one  of  the  front  ones,  was 
Betty.  Of  the  four  who  were  watching  him, 
Betty  seemed  the  least  excited;  it  seemed  to  Calu 
met  as  he  looked  at  her  that  there  was  some 
amusement  in  her  eyes. 

"Lordy!"  said  Dade  as  Calumet  looked  up  at 
him,  "  how  you  scairt  me  !  Was  it  you  shootin'  ? 
An'  what  in  thunder  was  you  shootin'  at?" 

"A  snake,"  said  Calumet  in  a  voice  loud  enough 
for  Betty  to  hear. 

"A  snake !    Holy  smoke  I "  growled  Dade  in 

disgust.     "Wakin'  people  up  at  this  time  of  the 

night  because  you  wanted  to  shoot  at  a  measly 

snake.     Tomorrow  we'll  lay  off  for  an  hour  or 

[186.3 


SUSPICION 


so  an'  I'll  take  you  where  you  can  shoot  'em  to 
your  heart's  content.  But,  for  the  love  of  Pete, 
quit  shootin'  at  'em  when  a  guy's  asleep." 
..  Calumet  looked  up  sardonically,  not  at  Dade, 
but  at  Betty.  "Was  you  all  asleep?"  he  inquired 
in  a  voice  of  cold  mockery.  Even  at  that  distance 
he  saw  Betty  redden,  and  he  laughed  shortly. 

"A  foxy  snake,"  he  said;  "one  of  them  kind 
which  goes  roamin'  around  at  night.  Lookin'  for 
a  mate,  mebbe."  He  turned  abruptly,  with  a  last 
sneering  look  at  Betty,  and  made  his  way  around 
the  house. 


[187] 


CHAPTER  XIV 

.  j 

JEALOUSY 

DADE  was  asleep  when  Calumet  got  into  bed, 
and  he  was  still  asleep  when  Calumet  awoke 
the  next  morning.  Calumet  descended  to  the 
kitchen.  When  he  opened  the  kitchen  door  Bob's 
dog  ran  between  his  legs  and  received  a  kick  that 
sent  him,  whining  with  pain  and  surprise,  off  the 
porch. 

Dominating  everything  in  Calumet's  mind  this 
morning  was  the  bitter  conviction  that  Betty  had 
deceived  him.  There  had  been  ground  for  Tag- 
gart's  talk  in  the  Red  Dog  —  he  saw  that  now. 
Taggart  and  Betty  were  leagued  against  him. 
When  he  had  brought  Taggart  face  to  face  with 
Betty  that  morning  more  than  a  month  ago  the 
Arrow  man  had  pretended  insolence  toward 
Betty  in  order  to  allay  any  suspicion  that  Calu 
met  might  have  concerning  the  real  relations 
between  them.  It  had  been  done  cleverly,  too, 
so  cleverly  that  it  had  convinced  him.  When  he 
remembered  the  cold,  disdainful  treatment  that 
[1*8] 


JEALOUSY 


Betty  had  accorded  Taggart  that  afternoon,  he 
almost  smiled — though  the  smile  was  not  good 
to  see.  He  had  championed  her — he  knew  now 
that  it  had  been  a  serious  championship  —  and  by 
doing  so  he  had  exposed  himself  to  ridicule;  to 
Betty's  and  Taggart's  secret  humor. 

He  discovered  an  explanation  for  Betty's  con 
duct  while  he  fed  and  watered  Blackleg.  It  was  all 
perfectly  plain  to  him.  Neither  Betty  nor  Taggart 
had  expected  him  to  return  to  the  Lazy  Y.  Betty's 
actions  on  the  night  of  his  arrival  proved  that. 
She  had  exhibited  emotion  entirely  out  of  rea 
son.  Undoubtedly  she  and  Taggart  had  expected 
to  wait  the  year  specified  in  the  will,  certain  that 
he  would  not  appear  to  claim  the  money  or  the 
idol,  or  they  might  have  planned  to  leave  before 
he  could  return.  But  since  he  had  surprised  them 
by  returning  unexpectedly,  it  followed  that  they 
must  reconstruct  their  plans ;  they  would  have  to 
make  it  impossible  for  him  to  comply  with  his 
father's  wishes.  They  could  easily  do  that,  or 
thought  they  could,  by  making  life  at  the  ranch 
unbearable  for  him.  That,  he  was  convinced,  was 
the  reason  that  Betty  had  adopted  her  cold,  severe, 
and  contemptuous  attitude  toward  him.  She  ex 
pected  he  would  find  her  nagging  and  bossing 
[189] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

intolerable,  that  he  would  leave  in  a  rage  and 
allow  her  and  Taggart  to  come  into  possession 
of  the  property.  Neither  she  nor  Taggart  would 
dare  make  off  with  the  money  and  the  idol  as  long 
as  he  was  at  the  ranch,  for  they  would  fear  his 
vengeance. 

He  thought  his  manner  had  already  forced 
Betty  to  give  him  his  father's  letters  and  admit 
the  existence  of  the  idol  —  she  had  been  afraid 
to  lie  to  him  about  them.  And  so  Betty  was 
"  stringing"  him  along,  as  Taggart  had  sug 
gested,  until  he  completed  the  repairs  on  the 
buildings,  until  he  had  the  ranch  in  such  shape 
that  it  might  be  worked,  and  then  at  the  end  of 
the  year  Betty  would  tell  him  that  his  reformation 
had  not  been  accomplished,  and  she  and  Taggart 
would  take  legal  possession. 

But  if  that  was  their  plan  they  were  mistaken 
in  their  man.  Until  he  had  worked  out  this  solu 
tion  of  the  situation  he  had  determined  to  leave. 
{Betty's  deceit  had  disgusted  him.  But  now,  though 
there  were  faults  in  the  structure  of  the  solution 
he  had  worked  out,  he  was  certain  that  they  in 
tended  working  along  those  lines,  and  he  was  now 
equally  determined  to  stay  and  see  the  thing  out. 

Of  course,  Taggart  was  trying  to  make  a  fool 
[190] 


JEALOUSY 


of  Betty  —  that  was  all  too  evident.  A  man  who 
has  serious  intentions  —  honorable  intentions  — 
toward  a  girl  does  not  talk  about  her  to  his  friends 
as  Taggart  had  talked.  Taggart  did  not  care  for 
her;  he  was  merely  planning  to  gain  her  confidence 
that  he  might  gain  possession  of  the  money  and 
the  idol.  The  very  fact  that  he  was  meeting 
Betty  secretly  proved  that  she  had  not  given  him 
the  treasure.  Perhaps  she  had  doubts  of  him  and 
was  delaying.  Yes,  that  was  the  explanation. 
Well,  he  would  see  that  Taggart  would  never  get 
the  treasure. 

He  went  in  to  breakfast  and  watched  Betty 
covertly  during  the  meal.  She  was  trying  to 
appear  -unconcerned,  but  it  was  plain  to  see  that 
her  unconcern  was  too  deep  to  be  genuine,  and  it 
moved  Calumet  to  malevolent  sarcasm. 

"Nothin'  is  botherin'  you  this  mornin',  I 
reckon?"  he  said  to  her  once  when  he  caught 
her  looking  at  him.  "Clear  conscience,  eh?"  he 
added  as  she  flushed. 

"What  should  bother  me?"  she  asked,  looking 
straight  at  him. 

"  I  was  thinkin'  that  mebbe  the  racket  I  was 
makin'  tryin'  to  kill  that  snake  might  have 
bothered — " 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

To  his  surprise,  she  pressed  her  lips  tightly 
together,  and  he  could  see  mirth  in  her  eyes  — 
mocking  mirth. 
1      "You  are  talking  in  riddles,"  she  said  quietly. 

So  then  she  was  going  to  deny  it?  Wrath  rose 
in  him. 

"Riddles,  eh?"  he  said.     "Well,  riddles—" 

"That  reptile  was  sure  botherin'  you  a  heap," 
cut  in  Dade;  and  Calumet  shot  a  quick  glance  at 
him,  wondering  whether  he,  also,  was  a  party  to 
the  plot  to  "string"  him. 

He  thought  he  detected  gratitude  in  Betty's 
eyes  as  she  smiled  at  Dade,  but  he  was  not  certain. 
He  said  no  more  on  the  subject  —  then.  But 
shortly  after  the  conclusion  of  the  meal  he  con 
trived  to  come  upon  Betty  outside  the  house.  She 
was  hanging  a  dish  towel  from  a  line  that  stretched 
from  a  corner  of  the  porch  to  the  stable. 

Looking  at  her  as  he  approached,  he  was  con 
scious  that  there  was  something  more  than  rage 
in  his  heart  against  her  for  her  duplicity;  there 
was  a  gnawing  disappointment  and  regret.  It  was 
as  though  he  was  losing  something  he  valued. 
But  he  put  this  emotion  away  from  him  as  he 
faced  her. 

"You're  damn  slick,"  he  said;  "slicker  than  I 

[192] 


JEALOUSY 


thought  you  was.  But  I  ain't  lettin'  you  think 
that  you're  stringin'  me  like  you  thought  you  was." 
He  put  vicious  and  significant  emphasis  on  the 
word,  and  when  he  saw  her  start  he  knew  she 
divined  that  he  had  overheard  the  conversation 
between  her  and  Taggart. 

Her  face  flushed.  "You  were  listening,  then," 
she  said  with  cold  contempt. 

"  I  ain't  ashamed  of  it,  either,"  he  shot  back. 
"When  a  man's  dealin'  with  crooks  like — " 
He  hesitated,  and  then  gave  a  venomous  accent 
to  the  words  —  "like  you  an'  Taggart,  he  can't 
be  over-scrupulous.  I  was  sure  listenin'.  I  heard 
Taggart  ask  you  if  you  was  still  stringin'  me. 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  that  new  pup  which  I 
just  brought  Bob  I'd  have  done  what  I  was 
goin'— " 

He  stopped  talking  and  looked  sharply  at  her, 
for  a  change  had  come  over  her.  In  her  eyes 
was  that  expression  of  conscious  advantage  which 
he  had  noticed  many  times  before.  She  seemed 
to  be  making  a  great  effort  to  suppress  some 
emotion,  and  was  succeeding,  too,  for  when  she 
spoke  her  voice  was  low  and  well  controlled. 

"So  you  heard  Taggart  talking  to  me?"  she 
mocked,  mirth  in  her  eyes.  "And  you  shot  at 
[193] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

him?  Is  that  it?  Well,  what  of  it?  I  do  not 
have  to  account  to  you  for  my  actions ! " 

He  laughed.  "  Nothin'  of  it,  I  reckon.  But 
if  you're  stuck  on  him,  why  don't  you  come  out 
in  the  open,  instead  of  sneakin'  around?  You 
made  it  pretty  strong  the  day  I  smashed  his  face 
for  talkin'  about  you.  I  reckon  he  had  some 
grounds." 

He  was  talking  now  to  hurt  her;  there  was  a 
savage  desire  in  his  heart  to  goad  her  to  anger. 

But  he  did  not  succeed.  Her  face  paled  a  little 
at  his  brutal  words,  at  the  insult  they  implied,  and 
she  became  a  little  rigid,  her  lips  stiffening.  But 
suddenly  she  smiled,  mockingly,  with  irritating 
unconcern. 

"  If  I  didn't  know  that  you  hate  me  as  you  do 
I  should  be  inclined  to  think  that  you  are  jealous. 
Are  you  ?  " 

He  straightened  in  astonishment.  Her  man 
ner  was  not  that  of  the  woman  who  is  caught 
doing  something  dishonorable;  it  was  the  calm 
poise  of  sturdy  honesty  at  bay.  But  while  he  was 
mystified,  he  was  not  convinced.  She  had  hit  the 
mark,  he  knew,  but  he  laughed  harshly. 

" Jealous  1"  he  said;  "jealous  of  you?  I 
reckon  you've  got  a  good  opinion  of  yourself  1 
[194] 


JEALOUSY 


You  make  me  sick.  I  just  want  to  put  you  wise 
a  few.  You  don't  need  to  try  to  pull  off  any  of 
that  sweet  innocence  stuff  on  me  any  more.  You're 
deep  an'  slick,  but  I've  sized  you  up.  You  made 
a  monkey  of  the  old  man;  you  made  him  think 
like  you're  tryin'  to  make  me  think,  that  you're 
sacrificin'  yourself. 

"  You  soft-soaped  him  into  smearin'  a  heap  of 
mush  into  his  letters  to  me.  It's  likely  you  wrote 
them  yourself.  An'  you  hoodwinked  him  into 
givin'  you  the  money  an'  the  idol  so's  you  an' 
,Taggart  could  divvy  up  after  you  put  me  out  of 
the  runnin'.  Coin'  to  reform  mel  I  reckon  if 
I  was  an  angel  I'd  have  to  have  a  recommenda 
tion  from  the  Lord  before  you'd  agree  that  I'd 
reformed.  You  couldn't  be  pried  loose  from  that 
coin  with  a  crow-bar  I " 

He  turned  from  her,  baffled,  for  it  was  apparent 
from  the  expression  of  mirth  deep  in  her  eyes  that 
his  attack  had  made  no  impression  on  her. 

Calumet  went  to  the  stable  and  threw  a  bridle 
on  Blackleg.  While  he  was  placing  the  saddle 
an  the  animal  he  hesitated  and  stood  regarding  it 
with  indecision.  He  had  intended  to  refuse  to 
accept  Betty's  orders  in  the  future;  had  decided 
that  he  would  do  no  more  work  on  the  buildings. 
[195] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

But  he  was  not  the  Calumet  of  old,  who  did  things 
to  suit  himself,  in  defiance  to  the  opinions  and 
wishes  of  other  people.  Betty  had  thrown  a  spell 
over  him;  he  discovered  that  in  spite  of  his  dis 
covery  he  felt  like  accommodating  his  movements 
"to  her  desires.  It  was  a  mystery  that  maddened 
him ;  he  seemed  to  be  losing  his  grip  on  himself, 
•and,  though  he  fought  against  it,  he  found  that 
lie  dreaded  her  disapproval,  her  sarcasm,  and  her 
taunts. 

It  seemed  to  him  puerile,  ridiculous,  to  think  of 
refusing  to  continue  with  the  work  he  had  started. 
As  long  as  he  was  going  to  stay  at  the  Lazy  Y 
he  might  as  well  keep  on.  Betty  would  surely 
laugh  at  him  if  he  refused  to  go  on.  He  fought 
it  out  and  took  a  long  time  to  it,  but  he  finally 
pulled  the  saddle  from  Blackleg  and  hitched  the 
two  horses  to  the  wagon.  When  he  drove  out 
of  the  ranchhouse  yard  he  saw  Betty  watching 
him  from  one  of  the  kitchen  windows.  He  felt 
like  cursing  her,  but  did  not. 

"  I  reckon,"  he  said  as  he  curled  the  lash  of  the 
whip  viciously  over  the  shoulders  of  the  horses, 
"  that  she's  got  me  locoed.  Well,"  he  cogitated, 
"any  woman's  liable  to  stampede  a  man,  an'  I 
ain't  the  first  guy  that's  had  his  doubts  whether 
[196] 


JEALOUSY 


he's  a  coyote  or  a  lion  after  he's  been  herd-rode 
by  a  petticoat.  I'm  waitin'  her  out.  But  Tag- 
gart — "  The  frown  on  his  face  indicated  that 
his  intentions  toward  the  latter  were  perfectly 
clear. 


[197] 


CHAPTER  XV 


OF  the  good  resolutions  that  Calumet  had 
made  since  the  night  before,  when  he  had 
re-read  his  father's  letter  in  the  moonlight  while 
standing  beside  the  corral  fence,  none  had  sur 
vived.  Black,  vicious  thoughts  filled  his  mind 
as  he  drove  toward  Lazette.  When  the  wagon 
reached  the  crest  of  a  slope  about  a  mile  out  of 
town,  Calumet  halted  the  horses  and  rolled  a 
cigarette,  a  sullen  look  in  his  eyes,  unrelieved  by 
the  prospect  before  him. 

By  no  stretch  of  the  imagination  could  Lazette 
be  called  attractive.  It  lay  forlorn  and  dismal  at 
the  foot  of  the  slope,  its  forty  or  more  buildings 
dingy,  unpainted,  ugly,  scattered  along  the  one 
street  as  though  waiting  for  the  encompassing 
desolation  to  engulf  them.  Two  serpentine  lines 
of  steel,  glistening  in  the  sunlight,  came  from  some 
mysterious  distance  across  the  dead  level  of  alkali, 
touched  the  edge  of  town  where  rose  a  little  red 
[198] 


rA  MEETING  IN  THE  RED  DOG 

wooden  station  and  a  water  tank  of  the  same 
color,  and  then  bent  away  toward  some  barren 
hills,  where  they  vanished. 

Calumet  proceeded  down  the  slope,  halting  at 
the  lumber  yard,  where  he  left  his  wagon  and 
orders  for  the  material  he  wanted.  Across  the 
street  from  the  lumber  yard  was  a  building 
on  which  was  a  sign:  "The  Chance  Saloon." 
Toward  this  Calumet  went  after  leaving  his 
wagon.  He  hesitated  for  an  instant  on  the  side 
walk,  and  a  voice,  seeming  to  come  from  nowhere 
in  particular,  whispered  in  his  ear: 

"  Neal  Taggart's  layin'  for  you ! " 

When  Calumet  wheeled,  his  six-shooter  was  in 
his  hand.  At  his  shoulder,  having  evidently  fol 
lowed  him  from  across  the  street,  stood  a  man. 
He  was  lean-faced,  hardy-looking,  with  a  strong, 
determined  jaw  and  steady,  alert  eyes.  He  was 
apparently  about  fifty  years  of  age.  He  grinned 
at  Calumet's  belligerent  motion. 

"Hearin'  me?"  he  said  to  Calumet's  cold, 
inquiring  glance. 

The  latter's  eyes  glowed.  "Layin'  for  me,  eh? 
Thanks."  He  looked  curiously  at  the  other. 
"Who  are  you?"  he  said. 

"I'm  Dave  Toban,  the  sheriff."     He  threw 

[199] 


back  one  side  of  his  vest  and  revealed  a  small 
silver  star. 

"Correct,"  said  Calumet;  "how  you  knowin' 
me?" 

"Knowed  your  dad,"  said  the  sheriff.  "You 
look  a  heap  like  him.  Besides,"  he  added  as  his 
eyes  twinkled,  "there  ain't  no  one  else  in  this 
section  doin'  any  buildin'  now." 

"  I'm  sure  much  obliged  for  your  interest,"  said 
Calumet.  "An'  so  Taggart's  lookin'  forme?" 

"  Been  in  town  a  week,"  continued  the  sheriff. 
"  Been  makin'  his  brags  what  he's  goin'  to  do  to 
you.  Says  you  wheedled  him  into  comin'  over  to 
the  Lazy  Y  an'  then  beat  him  up.  Got  Denver  Ed 
with  him." 

Calumet's  eyes  narrowed.  "I  know  him,"  he 
said. 

"Gun-fighter,  ain't  he?"  questioned  the  sheriff. 

"Yep."  Calumet's  eyelashes  flickered;  he 
smiled  with  straight  lips.  "Drinkin'?"  he  in 
vited. 

"Wouldn't  do,"  grinned  the  sheriff.  "Pub 
licly,  I  ain't  takin'  no  side.  Privately,  I'm  feelin' 
different.  Knowed  your  dad.  Taggart's  bad 
medicine  for  this  section.  Different  with  you." 

"How  different?" 

[  200] 


'A  MEETING  IN  THE  RED  DOG 

"Straight  up.  Anybody  that  lives  around 
Betty  Clayton's  got  to  be." 

Calumet  looked  at  him  with  a  crooked  smile. 
"I  reckon,"  he  said,  "that  you  don't  know  any 
more  about  women  than  I  do.  So-long,"  he  added. 
He  went  into  the  "Chance"  saloon,  leaving  the 
sheriff  looking  after  him  with  a  queer  smile. 

Ten  minutes  later  when  Calumet  came  out  of 
the  saloon  the  sheriff  was  nowhere  in  sight. 

Calumet  went  over  to  where  his  wagon  stood 
and,  concealed  behind  it,  took  a  six-shooter  from 
under  his  shirt  at  the  waistband  and  placed  it 
carefully  in  a  sling  under  the  right  side  of  his  vest. 
Then  he  removed  the  cartridges  from  the  weapon 
in  the  holster  at  his  hip,  smiling  mirthlessly  as  he 
replaced  it  in  the  holster  and  made  his  way  up  the 
street 

With  apparent  carelessness,  though  keeping  an 
alert  eye  about  him,  he  went  the  rounds  of  the 
saloons.  Before  he  had  visited  half  of  them  there 
was  an  air  of  suppressed  excitement  in  the  man 
ner  of  Lazette's  citizens,  and  knowledge  of  his 
errand  went  before  him.  In  the  saloons  that  he 
entered  men  made  way  for  him,  looking  at  him 
with  interest  as  he  peered  with  impersonal  intent- 
ness  at  them,  or,  standing  in  doorways,  they 
[201] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

watched  him  in  silence  as  he  departed,  and  then 
fell  to  talking  in  whispers.  He  knew  what  was 
happening  —  Lazette  had  heard  what  Taggart 
had  been  saying  about  him,  and  was  keeping  aloof, 
giving  him  a  clear  field. 

Presently  he  entered  the  Red  Dog. 

There  were  a  dozen  men  here,  drinking,  playing 
cards,  gambling.  The  talk  died  away  as  he  en 
tered;  men  sat  silently  at  the  tables,  seeming  to 
look  at  their  cards,  but  in  reality  watching  him 
covertly.  Other  men  got  up  from  their  chairs 
and  walked,  with  apparent  unconcern,  away  from 
the  center  of  the  room,  so  that  when  Calumet 
carelessly  tossed  a  coin  on  the  bar  in  payment 
for  a  drink  which  he  ordered,  only  three  men 
remained  at  the  bar  with  him. 

He  had  taken  quick  note  of  these  men.  They 
were  Neal  Taggart;  a  tall,  lanky,  unprepossessing 
man  with  a  truculent  eye  rimmed  by  lashless  lids, 
and  with  a  drooping  mustache  which  almost  con 
cealed  the  cruel  curve  of  his  lips,  whom  he  knew 
as  Denver  Ed  —  having  met  him  several  times 
in  the  Durango  country;  and  a  medium-sized 
stranger  whom  he  knew  as  Garvey.  The  latter 
was  dark-complexioned,  with  a  hook  nose  and  a 
loose-lipped  mouth. 

[202] 


A  MEETING  IN  THE  RED  DOG 

Calumet  did  not  appear  to  notice  them.  He 
poured  his  glass  full  and  lifted  it,  preparatory  to 
drinking.  Before  it  reached  his  lips  he  became 
aware  of  a  movement  among  the  three  men  — 
Garvey  had  left  them  and  was  standing  beside 
him. 

"Have  that  on  me,"  said  Garvey,  silkily,  to 
Calumet. 

Calumet  surveyed  him  with  a  glance  of  mild 
interest.  He  set  his  glass  down,  and  the  other 
silently  motioned  to  the  bartender  for  another. 

"Stranger  here,  I  reckon?"  said  Garvey  as  he 
poured  his  whiskey.  "  Where's  your  ranch? " 

"The  Lazy  Y,"  said  Calumet. 

The  other  filled  his  glass.  "Here's  how,"  he 
said,  and  tilted  it  toward  his  lips.  Calumet  did 
likewise.  If  he  felt  the  man's  hand  on  the  butt  of 
the  six-shooter  at  his  hip,  he  gave  no  indication  of 
it.  Nor  did  he  seem  to  exhibit  any  surprise  or 
concern  when,  after  drinking  and  setting  the  glass 
down,  he  looked  around  to  see  that  Garvey  had 
drawn  the  weapon  out  and  was  examining  it  with 
apparently  casual  interest 

This  action  on  the  part  of  Garvey  was  unethical 
and  dangerous,  and  there  were  men  among  the 
dozen  in  the  room  who  looked  sneeringly  at  Calu- 
[203] 


met,  or  to  one  another  whispered  the  significant 
words,  "greenhorn"  and  "tenderfoot."  Others, 
to,  whom  the  proprietor  had  spoken  concerning 
Calumet,  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  Still  others 
merely  stared  at  Garvey  and  Calumet,  unable  to 
account  for  the  latter's  mild  submission  to  this 
unallowed  liberty.  The  proprietor  alone,  remem 
bering  a  certain  gleam  in  Calumet's  eyes  on  a 
former  occasion,  looked  at  him  now  and  saw  deep 
in  his  eyes  a  slumbering  counterpart  to  it,  and 
discreetly  retired  to  the  far  end  of  the  bar,  where 
there  was  a  whiskey  barrel  in  front  of  him. 

But  Calumet  seemed  unconcerned. 

"  Some  gun,"  remarked  Garvey.  It  was 
strange,  though,  that  he  was  not  looking  at  the 
weapon  at  all,  or  he  might  have  seen  the  empty 
chambers.  He  was  looking  at  Calumet,  and  it 
was  apparent  that  his  interest  in  the  weapon  was 
negative. 

"Yes,  some,"  agreed  Calumet.  He  swung 
around  and  faced  the  man,  leaning  his  left  arm 
carelessly  on  the  bar. 

At  that  instant  Denver  Ed  sauntered  over  and 
joined  them.  He  looked  once  at  Calumet,  and 
then  his  gaze  went  to  Garvey  as  he  spoke. 

"  Friend  of  yourn  ?  "  he  questioned.    There  was 
[204] 


A  MEETING  IN  THE  RED  DOG 

marked  deference  in  the  manner  of  Garvey.  He 
politely  backed  away,  shifting  his  position  so  that 
Denver  Ed  faced  Calumet  at  a  distance  of  several 
feet,  with  no  obstruction  between  them. 

Calumet's  eyes  met  Denver's,  and  he  answered 
the  latter's  question,  Garvey  having  apparently 
withdrawn  from  the  conversation. 

"Friend  of  his?"  sneered  Calumet,  grinning 
shallowly.  "I  reckon  not;  I'm  pickin'  my  com 
pany." 

Denver  Ed  did  not  answer  at  once.  He  moved 
a  little  toward  Calumet  and  shoved  his  right  hip 
forward,  so  that  the  butt  of  his  six-shooter  was 
invitingly  near.  Then,  with  his  hands  folded 
peacefully  over  his  chest,  he  spoke : 

"  You  do,"  he  said,  "  you  mangy !  " 

There  was  a  stir  among  the  onlookers  as  the 
vile  epithet  was  applied.  Calumet's  right  hand 
went  swiftly  forward  and  his  fingers  closed  around 
the  butt  of  the  weapon  at  Denver  Ed's  hip.  The 
gun  came  out  with  a  jerk  and  lay  in  Calumet's 
hand.  Calumet  began  to  pull  the  trigger.  The 
dull,  metallic  impact  of  the  hammer  against  empty 
chambers  was  the  only  result. 

Denver  Ed  grinned  malignantly  as  his  right 
hand  stole  into  his  vest.  There  was  a  flash  of 
[205] 


metal  as  he  drew  the  concealed  gun,  but  before 
its  muzzle  could  be  trained  on  Calumet  the  latter 
pressed  the  empty  weapon  in  his  own  hand  against 
the  one  that  Denver  Ed  was  attempting  to  draw, 
blocking  its  egress;  while  in  Calumet's  left  hand 
the  six-shooter  which  he  had  concealed  under  his 
own  vest  roared  spitefully  within  a  foot  of  Denver 
Ed's  chest. 

Many  in  the  room  saw  the  expression  of  sur 
prise  in  Denver  Ed's  eye  as  he  pitched  forward 
in  a  heap  at  Calumet's  feet.  There  were  others 
who  saw  Garvey  raise  the  six-shooter  which  he 
had  drawn  from  Calumet's  holster.  All  heard 
the  hammer  click  impotently  on  the  empty  cham 
bers;  saw  Calumet's  own  weapon  flash  around 
and  cover  Garvey;  saw  the  flame-spurt  and 
watched  Garvey  crumple  and  sink. 

There  was  a  dead  silence.  Taggart  had  not 
moved.  Calumet's  gaze  went  from  the  two  fallen 
men  and  rested  on  his  father's  enemy. 

"  Didn't  work,"  he  jeered.  "  They  missed  con 
nections,  didn't  they?  You'll  get  yours  if  you 
ain't  out  of  town  by  sundown.  Layin'  for  me 
for  a  week,  eh?  You  sufferin'  sneak,  thinkin'  I 
was  born  yesterday!"  He  ignored  Taggart  and 
looked  coolly  around  at  his  audience,  not  a  man 
[206] 


A  MEETING  IN  THE  RED  DOG 

of  which  had  moved.  He  saw  the  sheriff  standing 
near  the  door,  and  it  was  to  him  that  he  spoke. 

"  Frame-up,"  he  said  in  short,  sharp  accents. 
"Back  Durango  way  Denver  an'  the  little  guy 
pulled  it  off  regular.  Little  man  gets  your  gun. 
Denver  gets  you  riled.  Sticks  his  hip  out  so's 
you'll  grab  his  gun.  You  do.  Gun's  empty.  But 
you  don't  know  it,  an'  you  try  to  perforate  Denver. 
Then  he  pulls  another  gun  an'  salivates  you.  Self- 
defense."  He  looked  around  with  a  cold  grin. 
"  Planted  an  empty  on  him  myself,"  he  said.  "  The 
little  guy  fell  for  it.  So  did  Denver.  I  reckon 
that's  all.  You  wantin'  me  for  this?"  he  inquired 
of  the  sheriff.  "You'll  find  me  at  the  Lazy  Y. 
Taggart — "  He  hesitated  and  looked  around. 
Taggart  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  "Sloped," 
added  Calumet,  with  a  laugh. 

"I  don't  reckon  I'll  want  you,"  said  Toban. 
"  Clear  case  of  self-defense.  I  reckon  most  every 
body  saw  the  play.  Some  raw." 

Several  men  had  moved;  one  of  them  was 
peering  at  the  faces  of  Denver  and  Garvey.  He 
now  looked  up  at  the  sheriff. 

"  Nothing  botherin'  them  any  more,"  he  said. 

Calumet  stepped  over  to  Denver's  confederate 
and  took  up  the  pistol  from  the  floor  near  him, 
[207] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

replacing  it  in  his  holster.  By  this  time  the  crowd 
in  the  saloon  was  standing  near  the  two  gunmen, 
commenting  gravely  or  humorously,  according  to 
its  whim. 

"Surprise  party  for  him,"  suggested  one, 
pointing  to  Denver. 

"  Didn't  tickle  him  a  heap,  though,"  said  an 
other.  "  Seemed  plumb  shocked  an'  disappointed, 
if  you  noticed  his  face." 

"  Slick,"  said  another,  pointing  to  Calumet,  who 
had  turned  his  back  and  was  walking  toward  the 
door;  "  cool  as  ice  water." 

Sudden  death  had  no  terrors  for  these  men; 
there  was  no  inclination  in  their  minds  to  blame 
Calumet,  and  so  they  watched  with  admiration 
for  his  poise  as  he  stepped  out  through  the  door. 

"Taggart'll  be  gettin'  his,"  said  a  man. 

"  Not  tonight,"  laughed  another.  "  I  seen  him 
hittin'  the  breeze  out.  An'  sundown's  quite  a 
considerable  distance  away  yet,  too." 


[208] 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  AMBUSH 

IF  Calumet  had  any  regret  over  the  outcome  of 
his  adventure  in  the  Red  Dog,  it  was  that 
Neal  Taggart  had  given  him  no  opportunity  to 
square  the  account  between  them.  Calumet  had 
lingered  in  town  until  dusk,  for  he  had  given  his 
word  and  would  not  break  it,  and  then,  it  being 
certain  that  his  enemy  had  decided  not  to  accept 
the  challenge,  he  hitched  his  horses  and  just  after 
dusk  pulled  out  for  the  Lazy  Y.  Something  had 
been  added  to  the  debt  of  hatred  which  he  owed 
the  Taggarts. 

As  he  drove  through  the  darkening  land  he 
yielded  to  a  deep  satisfaction.  He  had  struck  one 
blow,  a  sudden  and  decisive  one,  and,  though  it 
had  not  landed  on  either  of  the  Taggarts,  it  had 
at  least  shown  them  what  they  might  expect.  He 
intended  to  deliver  other  blows,  and  he  was  rather 
glad  now  that  he  had  not  been  so  weak  as  to  allow 
Betty's  dictatorial  attitude  to  drive  him  from  the 
[209] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

ranch,  for  in  that  case  he  would  never  have  dis 
covered  the  plot  to  cheat  him  of  his  heritage  — 
would  not  have  been  in  a  position  to  bring  dis 
comfiture  and  confusion  upon  them  all.  That  was 
what  he  was  determined  to  do.  There  was  no 
plan  in  his  mind;  he  was  merely  going  to  keep  his 
eyes  open,  and  when  opportunity  came  he  was 
going  to  take  advantage  of  it. 

The  darkness  deepened  as  he  drove.  When  he 
reached  the  crest  of  the  slope  from  which  that 
morning  he  had  looked  down  upon  Lazette,  the 
wagon  entered  a  stretch  of  broken  country 
through  which  the  horses  made  slow  progress. 
After  traversing  this  section  he  encountered  a 
flat,  dull  plain  of  sand,  hard  and  smooth,  which 
the  horses  appreciated,  for  they  traveled  rapidly, 
straining  willingly  in  the  harness. 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  when  the  moon  rose, 
a  pale  yellow  disk  above  the  hills  that  rimmed 
the  valley  of  the  Lazy  Y,  and  Calumet  welcomed 
it  with  a  smile,  lighting  a  cigarette  and  leaning 
back  comfortably  in  the  seat,  with  the  reins  held 
between  his  knees. 

He  presently  thought  of  his  weapons,  drawing 
them  out  and  reloading  them.  They  recalled  the 
incident  of  the  Red  Dog,  and  for  a  long  time  his 
[210] 


THE  AMBUSH 


thoughts  dwelt  on  it,  straight,  grim  lines  in  his 
face. 

He  wondered  what  Betty  would  say  when  she 
heard  of  it.  Would  it  affect  her  future  relations 
with  Taggart?  His  thoughts  were  still  of  Betty 
when  the  wagon  careened  out  of  the  level  and 
began  to  crawl  up  a  slope  that  led  through  some 
hills.  The  trail  grew  hazardous,  and  the  horses 
were  forced  to  proceed  slowly.  It  was  near  mid 
night  when  the  wagon  dipped  into  a  little  gully 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  ranchhouse. 
Calumet  halted  the  horses  at  the  bottom  of  the 
gully,  allowing  them  to  drink  from  the  shallow 
stream  that  trickled  on  its  way  to  meet  the  river 
which  passed  through  the  wood  near  the  ranch- 
house. 

After  the  animals  had  drunk  their  fill  he  urged 
them  on  again,  for  he  was  weary  of  the  ride  and 
anxious  to  have  it  over  with.  It  was  a  long  pull, 
however,  and  the  horses  made  hard  work  of  it, 
so  that  when  they  reached  the  crest  of  the  rise 
they  halted  of  their  own  accord  and  stood  with 
their  legs  braced,  breathing  heavily. 

Calumet  waited  patiently.  He  was  anxious 
to  get  to  the  Lazy  Y,  but  his  sympathy  was 
with  the  horses.  He  rolled  and  lighted  another 

[211] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

cigarette,  holding  the  match  concealed  in  the 
palm  of  his  hand  so  that  the  breeze  might  not 
extinguish  it. 

Sitting  thus,  a  premonition  of  danger  oppressed 
him  with  such  force  and  suddenness  that  it  caused 
him  to  throw  himself  quickly  backward.  At  the 
exact  instant  that  his  back  struck  the  lumber  piled 
behind  him  he  heard  the  sharp,  vicious  crack  of  a 
rifle,  and  a  bullet  thudded  dully  into  one  of  the 
wooden  stanchions  of  the  wagon  frame  at  the 
edge  of  the  seat.  Another  report  followed  it 
quickly,  and  Calumet  flung  himself  headlong 
toward  the  rear  of  the  wagon,  where  he  lay  for 
a  brief  instant,  alert,  rigid,  too  full  of  rage  for 
utterance. 

But  he  was  not  too  angry  to  think.  The  shots, 
he  knew,  had  come  from  the  left  of  the  wagon. 
They  had  been  too  close  for  comfort,  and  who 
ever  had  shot  at  him  was  a  good  enough  marks 
man,  although,  he  thought,  with  a  bitter  grin,  a 
trifle  too  slow  of  movement  to  do  any  damage  to 
him. 

His  present  position  was  precarious  and  he  did 

not  stay  long  in   it.      Close  to   the  side  of  the 

wagon  —  the  side  opposite  that  from  which  the 

shots    had   come  —  was    a    shallow    gully,    deep 

[212] 


THE  AMBUSH 


enough  to  conceal  himself  in  and  fringed  at  the 
rear  by  several  big  boulders.  It  was  an  ideal 
position  and  Calumet  did  not  hesitate  to  take 
advantage  of  it.  Dropping  from  the  rear  of  the 
wagon,  he  made  a  leap  for  the  gully,  landing  in 
its  bottom  upon  all  fours.  He  heard  a  crash,  and 
a  bullet  flattened  itself  against  one  of  the  rocks 
above  his  head. 

"He  ain't  so  slow,  after  all,"  he  admitted 
grudgingly,  referring  to  the  concealed  marksman. 
He  kneeled  in  the  gully  and  looked  cautiously 
over  its  edge.  The  wagon  was  directly  in  front 
of  him;  part  of  one  of  the  rear  wheels  was  in  his 
line  of  vision.  The  horses  were  standing  quietly, 
undisturbed  by  the  shots.  He  resolved  to  keep 
them  where  they  were,  and,  exercising  the  great 
est  care,  he  found  a  good-sized  rock  and  stuck  it 
under  the  front  of  the  rear  wheel  nearest  him, 
thus  blocking  the  wagon  against  them  should  they 
become  restless. 

The  moon  was  at  his  back,  and  he  grinned  with 
satisfaction  as  he  noted  that  the  rocks  behind  him 
threw  a  deep  shadow  into  the  gully.  He  could 
not  help  thinking  that  his  enemy,  whoever  he  was, 
had  not  made  a  happy  selection  of  a  spot  for  an 
ambuscade,  for  the  moonlight's  glare  revealed 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

every  rock  on  the  other  side  of  the  wagon,  and 
the  few  trees  in  the  wood  behind  the  rocks  were 
far  too  slender  to  provide  shelter  for  a  man  of 
ordinary  size.  Calumet  chuckled  grimly  as,  with 
his  head  slightly  above  the  edge  of  the  gully  and 
concealed  behind  the  felloes  of  the  wagon  wheel, 
he  made  an  examination  of  the  rocks  beyond  the 
wagon. 

There  were  four  of  the  rocks  which  were  of 
sufficient  size  to  afford  concealment  for  a  man. 
They  varied  in  size  and  were  ranged  along  the 
side  of  the  trail  in  an  irregular  line.  All  were 
about  a  hundred  feet  distant. 

The  smaller  one,  he  decided,  was  not  to  be  con 
sidered,  though  he  looked  suspiciously  at  it  before 
making  his  decision.  Its  neighbor  was  larger, 
though  he  reasoned  that  if  he  were  to  make  a 
selection  for  an  ambuscade  he  would  not  choose 
that  one  either.  The  other  two  rocks  were  al 
most  the  same  size  and  he  watched  them  warily. 
To  the  right  and  left  of  these  rocks  was  a  clear 
space,  flat  and  open,  with  not  a  tree  or  a  bush 
large  enough  to  conceal  danger  such  as  he  was  in 
search  of.  The  slope  up  which  he  had  just  driven 
the  horses  was  likewise  free  from  obstruction,  so 
that  if  his  enemy  was  behind  any  of  the  rocks 
[214] 


THE  AMBUSH 


he  was  doomed  to  stay  there  or  offer  himself  as  a 
target  for  Calumet's  pistol. 

"Wise,  I  reckon,"  he  sneered.  "  Figgered  to 
plug  me  while  the  horses  was  restin',  knowin'  I'd 
have  to  breathe  them  about  here.  Thought 
one  shot  would  get  me.  Missed  his  reckonin'. 
Must  be  a  mite  peeved  by  this  time." 

His  gaze  became  intent  again,  but  this  time 
it  was  directed  to  some  underbrush  about  two 
hundred  yards  distant,  back  of  the  rocks.  With 
some  difficulty  he  could  make  out  the  shape  of  a 
horse  standing  well  back  in  the  brush,  and  again 
he  grinned. 

"That's  why  he  took  that  side,"  he  said. 
"There's  no  place  on  this  side  where  he  could 
hide  his  horse.  It's  plumb  simple." 

From  where  he  kneeled  began  another  slope 
that  descended  to  the  Lazy  Y  valley.  It  dipped 
gently  down  into  the  wood  in  front  of  the  house, 
where  he  had  hitched  his  horse  on  the  night  of  his 
home-coming,  and  between  the  trees  he  could  see 
a  light  flickering.  The  light  came  from  the 
kitchen  window  of  the  ranch-house;  Betty  had 
left  it  burning  for  him,  expecting  him  to  return 
shortly  after  dusk.  The  house  was  not  more 
than  a  mile  distant  and  he  wondered  at  the  hardi- 
[215] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

hood  of  his  enemy  in  planning  to  ambush  him  so 
close  to  his  home.  He  reflected,  though,  that  it 
was  not  likely  that  the  shots  could  be  heard  from 
the  house,  for  the  spot  on  which  the  wagon  stood 
was  several  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
valley,  and  then  there  was  the  intervening  wood, 
which  would  dull  whatever  sound  might  float  in 
that  direction. 

Who  could  his  assailant  be  ?  Why,  it  was  Tag- 
gart,  of  course.  Taggart  had  left  town  hours 
before  him,  he  was  a  coward,  and  shooting  from 
ambush  is  a  coward's  game. 

Calumet's  blood  leaped  a  little  faster  in  his 
veins.  He  would  settle  for  good  with  Neal 
Taggart.  But  he  did  not  move  except  to  draw 
one  of  his  six-shooters  and  push  its  muzzle  over 
the  edge  of  the  gully.  He  shoved  his  arm  slowly 
forward  so  that  it  lay  extended  along  the  ground 
the  barrel  of  the  pistol  resting  on  the  felloes  of 
the  wheel. 

In  this  position  he  remained  for  half  an  hour. 
No  sound  broke  the  strained  stillness  of  the  place. 
The  horses  had  sagged  forward,  their  heads  hang 
ing,  their  legs  braced.  There  was  no  cloud  in 
the  sky  and  the  clear  light  of  the  moon  poured 
down  in  a  yellow  flood.  Calumet's  task  would 
[216] 


THE  AMBUSH 


have  been  easier  if  he  could  have  told  which  of 
the  four  rocks  concealed  his  enemy.  As  it  was 
he  was  compelled  to  watch  them  all. 

But  presently,  at  the  edge  of  one  of  the  two 
larger  rocks,  the  one  nearest  the  slope,  he  detected 
movement.  A  round  object  a  foot  in  diameter, 
came  slowly  into  view  from  behind  the  rock,  pro 
pelled  by  an  unseen  force.  It  was  shoved  out 
about  three  quarters  of  its  width,  so  that  it  over 
lapped  the  big  rock  beside  it,  leaving  an  aperture 
between  the  two  of  perhaps  three  or  four  inches. 
While  Calumet  watched  a  rifle  barrel  was  stuck 
into  this  aperture.  Calumet  waited  until  the  muz 
zle  of  the  rifle  became  steady  and  then  he  took 
quick  aim  at  the  spot  and  pulled  the  trigger  of  his 
six-shooter,  ducking  his  head  below  the  edge  of 
the  gully  as  his  weapon  crashed. 

He  heard  a  laugh,  mocking,  discordant,  fol 
lowed  by  a  voice  —  Taggart's  voice. 

"Clean  miss,"  it  said.      "You're  nervous." 

"  Like  you  was  in  town  today,"  jeered  Calumet. 

"  Then  you  know  me  ?  "  returned  Taggart.  "  I 
ain't  admittin'  that  I  was  any  nervous." 

"Scared  of  the  dark,  then,"  said  Calumet. 
"You  left  town  a  whole  lot  punctual." 

"Well,"    sneered    Taggart;    "mebbe    I    ain't 
[217] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

much  on  the  shoot.  I  don't  play  any  man's  game 
but  my  own." 

"You're  right,"  mocked  Calumet;  "you  don't 
play  no  man's  game.  A  man's  game — " 

He  raised  his  head  a  trifle  and  a  bullet  sang1 
past  it,  flattened  itself  against  the  rock  behind  him, 
cutting  short  his  speech  and  his  humor  at  the  same 
instant.  The  gully  was  fully  fifty  feet  long  and 
he  dropped  on  his  hands  and  knees  and  crawled 
to  the  upper  end  of  it,  away  from  the  slope.  He 
saw  one  of  Taggart's  feet  projecting  from  behind 
the  rock  and  he  brought  his  six-shooter  to  a  poise. 
The  foot  moved  and  disappeared.  Catching  a 
glimpse  of  the  rifle  barrel  coming  into  view  around 
the  edge  of  the  rock,  Calumet  sank  back  into  the 
gully.  Fifteen  minutes  later  when  he  again  cau 
tiously  raised  his  head  above  the  level  there  was 
no  sign  of  Taggart.  He  dropped  down  into  the 
gully  again  and  scrambled  to  the  other  end  of  it, 
raising  his  head  again.  He  saw  Taggart,  twenty- 
five  feet  behind  the  rock,  backing  away  toward 
the  wood  where  his  horse  stood,  crouching,  watch 
ful,  endeavoring  to  keep  the  rock  between  him 
and  Calumet  while  he  retreated.  Altogether,  he 
was  fully  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  feet  away  at 
the  moment  Calumet  caught  sight  of  him,  and  he 
[218] 


THE  AMBUSH 


was  looking  toward  the  end  of  the  gully  that 
Calumet  had  just  vacated.  Calumet  stood  erect 
and  snapped  a  shot  at  him,  though  the  distance 
was  so  great  that  he  had  little  expectation  of 
doing  any  damage. 

But  Taggart  staggered,  dropped  his  rifle  and 
dove  headlong  toward  the  rock.  In  an  instant 
he  had  resumed  his  position  behind  it,  and  Calu 
met  could  tell  from  the  rapidity  of  his  movements 
that  he  had  not  been  hit.  He  saw  the  rifle  lying 
where  it  had  fallen,  and  he  was  meditating  a 
quick  rush  toward  the  rock  when  he  saw  Tag- 
gart's  hand  come  out  and  grasp  the  stock  of  the 
weapon,  dragging  it  back  to  him.  Calumet 
whipped  a  bullet  at  the  hand,  but  the  only  result 
was  a  small  dust  cloud  beside  it. 

"In  a  hurry,  Taggart?"  he  jeered.  "Aw, 
don't  be.  This  is  the  most  fun  I've  had  since 
I've  been  back  in  the  valley.  An'  you  want  to 
spoil  it  by  hittin'  the  breeze.  Hang  around  a 
while  till  I  get  my  hand  in.  I  reckon  you  ain't 
hurt?"  he  added,  putting  a  little  anxiety  into  his 
voice. 

"Hurt  nothin',"  growled  Taggart.  "You  hit 
the  stock  of  the  rifle." 

"  I  reckon  that  wouldn't  be  accounted  bad 
[219] 


shootin'  at  a  hundred  an'  twenty-five  feet,"  said 
Calumet.  "  If  you  hadn't  had  the  rifle  in  the 
way  you'd  have  got  it  plumb  in  your  bread-basket. 
But  don't  be  down-hearted;  that  ain't  nothin'  to 
what  I  can  do  when  I  get  my  hand  in.  I  ain't 
had  no  practice." 

He  had  an  immense  advantage  over  Taggart. 
The  latter  was  compelled  to  remain  concealed  be 
hind  his  rock,  while  Calumet  had  the  freedom 
of  the  gully.  He  did  not  anticipate  that  Taggart 
would  again  attempt  to  retreat  in  the  same  way, 
nor  did  he  think  that  he  would  risk  charging  him, 
for  he  would  not  be  certain  at  what  point  in  the 
gully  he  would  be  likely  to  find  his  enemy  and  thus 
a  charge  would  probably  result  disastrously  for 
him. 

Taggart  was  apparently  satisfied  of  the  watch 
fulness  of  Calumet,  for  he  stayed  discreetly  be 
hind  his  rock.  Twice  during  the  next  hour  his 
rifle  cracked  when  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  Calu 
met's  head,  and  each  time  he  knew  he  had  missed, 
for  Calumet's  laugh  followed  the  reports.  Once, 
after  a  long  interval  of  silence,  thinking  that 
Calumet  was  at  the  other  end  of  the  gully,  he 
moved  the  small  rock  which  he  had  pushed 
beyond  the  edge  of  the  large  one,  using  his  rifle 
[220] 


THE  AMBUSH 


barrel  as  a  prod.  A  bullet  from  Calumet's  pistol 
struck  the  rock,  glanced  from  it  and  seared  the 
back  of  his  hand,  bringing  a  curse  to  his  lips. 

"Told  you  so,"  came  Calumet's  voice.  "I 
hope  it  ain't  nothin'  serious.  But  I'm  gettin'  my 
hand  in." 

This  odd  duel  continued  with  long  lapses  of 
silence  while  the  moon  grew  to  a  disk  of  pale, 
liquid  silver  in  the  west,  enduring  through  the 
bleak,  chill  time  preceding  the  end  of  night, 
finally  fading  and  disappearing  as  the  far  eastern 
distance  began  to  glow  with  the  gray  light  of 
dawn. 

Calumet's  cold  humor  had  not  survived  the 
night.  He  patrolled  the  gully  during  the  slow- 
dragging  hours  of  the  early  morning  with  a  grow 
ing  caution  and  determination,  his  lips  setting 
always  into  harder  lines,  his  eyes  beginning  to 
blaze  with  a  ferocity  that  promised  ill  for 
Taggart. 

Shortly  after  dawn,  kneeling  in  the  gully  at 
the  end  toward  the  ranchhouse,  he  heard  the 
wagon  move.  He  looked  up  to  see  that  the 
horses  had  started,  evidently  with  the  intention 
of  completing  their  delayed  journey  to  the  stable, 
where  they  would  find  the  food  and  water  which 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

they  no  doubt  craved.  As  the  wagon  bumped 
over  the  obstruction  which  Calumet  had  placed  in 
front  of  the  rear  wheel,  he  was  on  the  verge  of 
shouting  to  the  horses  to  halt,  but  thought  better 
of  it,  watching  them  in  silence  as  they  made  their 
way  slowly  down  the  slope. 

It  took  them  a  long  time  to  reach  the  level  of 
the  valley,  and  then  they  passed  slowly  through 
the.  wood,  going  as  steadily  as  though  there  was 
a  driver  on  the  seat  behind  them,  and  finally 
they  turned  into  the  ranchhouse  yard  and  came 
to  a  halt  near  the  kitchen  door. 

Calumet  watched  them  until  they  came  to  a 
stop  and  then  he  went  to  the  opposite  end  of  the 
gully,  peeping  above  it  in  order  to  learn  of  the 
whereabouts  of  Taggart.  He  saw  no  signs  of 
him  and  returned  to  the  other  end  of  the  gully. 

Taggart,  he  suspected,  could  not  see  where  the 
wagon  had  gone  and  no  doubt  was  filled  with 
curiosity.  Neither  could  Taggart  see  the  ranch- 
house,  for  there  were  intervening  hills  and  the 
slope  itself  was  a  ridge  which  effectually  shut  off 
Taggart's  view.  But  neither  hills  or  ridge  were 
in  Calumet's  line  of  vision.  Kneeling  in  the  gully 
he  watched  the  wagon.  Presently  he  saw  Betty 
come  out  and  stand  on  the  porch.  She  looked 
[  222  ] 


THE  AMBUSH 


at  the  wagon  for  a  moment  and  then  went  toward 
it  —  Calumet  could  see  her  peer  around  the  canvas 
side  at  the  seat.  After  a  moment  she  left  the 
wagon  and  walked  to  the  stable,  looking  within. 
Then  she  took  a  turn  around  the  ranchhouse 
yard,  stopping  at  the  bunkhouse  and  looking  over 
the  corral  fence.  She  returned  to  the  wagon 
and  stood  beside  it  as  though  pondering.  Calu 
met  grinned  in  amusement.  She  was  wondering 
what  had  become  of  him.  His  grin  was  cut  short 
by  the  crash  of  Taggart's  rifle  and  he  dodged 
down,  realizing  that  in  his  curiosity  to  see  what 
Betty  was  doing  he  had  inadvertently  exposed 
himself.  A  hole  in  his  shirt  sleeve  near  the 
shoulder  testified  to  his  narrow  escape. 

His  rage  against  Taggart  was  furious  and  with 
a  grimace  at  him  he  turned  again  to  the  ranch- 
house.  Betty  had  left  the  wagon  and  had  walked 
several  steps  toward  him,  standing  rigid,  shading 
her  eyes  with  her  hands.  Apparently  she  had 
heard  the  report  of  the  rifle  and  was  wondering 
what  it  meant.  At  that  instant  Calumet  looked 
over  the  edge  of  the  gully  to  see  Taggart  shoving 
the  muzzle  of  his  rifle  around  the  side  of  the  rock. 
Its  report  mingled  with  the  roar  of  Calumet's 
pistol. 

[223] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

Taggart  yelled  with  pain  and  rage  and  flopped 
back  out  of  sight,  while  Calumet  laid  an  inves 
tigating  hand  on  his  left  shoulder,  which  felt  as 
though  it  had  been  seared  by  a  red-hot  iron. 

He  kneeled  in  the  gully  and  tore  the  cloth 
away.  The  wound  was  a  slight  one  and  he 
sneered  at  it.  He  made  his  way  to  the  other 
end  of  the  gully,  expecting  that  Taggart,  if  in 
jured  only  slightly,  might  again  attempt  a  retreat, 
but  he  did  not  see  him  and  came  back  to  the  end 
nearest  the  ranchhouse.  Then  he  saw  Betty  run 
ning  toward  him,  carrying  a  rifle. 

At  this  evidence  of  meditated  interference  in 
his  affairs  a  new  rage  afflicted  Calumet.  He 
motioned  violently  for  her  to  keep  away,  and 
when  he  saw  Dade  run  out  of  the  house  after 
her,  also  with  a  rifle  in  hand,  he  motioned  again. 
But  it  was  evident  that  they  took  his  motions  to 
mean  that  they  were  not  to  approach  him  in  that 
direction,  for  they  changed  their  course  and  swung 
!  around  toward  the  rocks  at  his  rear. 

Furious  at  their  obstinacy,  or  lack  of  percep 
tion,  Calumet  watched  their  approach  with  glow 
ering  glances.  When  they  came  near  enough  for 
him  to  make  himself  heard  he  yelled  savagely  at 
them. 

[224] 


THE  AMBUSH 


"  Get  out  of  here,  you  damned  fools !  "  he  said; 
"do  you  want  to  get  hurt?" 

They  continued  to  come  on  in  spite  of  this 
warning,  but  when  .they  reached  the  foot  of  the 
little  slope  that  led  to  the  ridge  at  the  edge  of 
which  was  Calumet's  gully,  they  halted,  looking 
up  at  Calumet  inquiringly.  The  ridge  towered 
above  their  heads,  and  so  they  were  in  no  danger, 
but  Betty  halted  only  for  a  moment  and  then 
continued  to  approach  until  she  stood  on  the  ridge, 
exposed  to  Taggart's  fire.  But,  of  course,  Tag- 
gart  would  not  fire  at  her. 

"What's  wrong?"  she  demanded  of  Calumet; 
"what  were  you  shooting  at?" 

"  Friend  of  yours,"  he  said  brusquely. 

"Who?" 

"Neal  Taggart.  We've  been  picnicin'  all 
night" 

Her  face  flooded  with  color,  but  paled  instantly. 
Calumet  thought  there  was  reproach  in  the  glance 
she  threw  at  him,  but  he  did  not  have  time  to[ 
make  certain,  for  at  the  instant  she  looked  at  him 
she  darted  toward  a  rock  about  ten  feet  distant, 
no  doubt  intending  to  conceal  herself  behind  it. 

Calumet  watched  her.     When  she  gained  the 
shelter  of  the  rock  she  was  about  to  kneel  in 
[225] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

some  fringing  mesquite  at  its  base  when  she  heard 
Calumet  yell  at  her.  She  turned,  hesitating  in 
the  act  of  kneeling,  and  looked  at  Calumet.  His 
face  was  ashen.  His  heavy  pistol  pointed  in  her 
direction;  it  seemed  that  its  muzzle  menaced  her. 
She  straightened,  anger  in  her  eyes,  as  the  weapon 
crashed. 

Her  knees  shook,  she  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands  to  shut  out  the  reeling  world,  for  she 
thought  that  in  his  rage  he  was  shooting  at  her. 
But  in  the  next  instant  she  felt  his  arms  around 
her;  she  was  squeezed  until  she  thought  her  bones 
were  being  crushed,  and  in  the  same  instant  she 
was  lifted,  swung  clear  of  the  ground  and  set 
suddenly  down  again.  She  opened  her  eyes,  her 
whole  body  trembling  with  wrath,  to  look  at  Calu 
met,  within  a  foot  of  her.  But  he  was  not  looking 
at  her;  his  gaze  was  fixed  with  sardonic  satisfac 
tion  upon  a  huge  rattler  which  was  writhing  in  the 
throes  of  death  at  the  base  of  the  rock  where 
she  had  been  about  to  kneel.  Its  head  had  been 
partly  severed  from  its  body  and  while  she  looked 
Calumet's  pistol  roared  again  and  its  destruction 
was  completed. 

She  was  suddenly  faint;  the  world  reeled  again. 
But  the  sensation  passed  quickly  and  she  saw 
[226] 


THE  AMBUSH 


Calumet  standing  close  to  her,  looking  at  her  with 
grim  disapprobation.  Apparently  he  had  for 
gotten  his  danger  in  his  excitement  over  hers. 

"  I  told  you  not  to  come  here,"  he  said. 

But  a  startled  light  leaped  into  her  eyes  at  the 
words.  Calumet  swung  around  as  he  saw  her 
rifle  swing  to  her  shoulder.  He  saw  Taggart 
near  the  edge  of  the  wood,  two  hundred  yards 
away,  kneeling,  his  rifle  leveled  at  them.  He 
yelled  to  Betty  but  she  did  not  heed  him.  Tag- 
gart's  bullet  sang  over  his  head  as  the  gun  in 
Betty's  hands  crashed.  Taggart  stood  quickly 
erect,  his  rifle  dropped  from  his  hands  as  he  ran, 
staggering  from  side  to  side,  to  his  horse.  He 
mounted  and  fled,  his  pony  running  desperately, 
accompanied  by  the  music  of  a  rifle  that  suddenly 
began  popping  on  the  other  side  of  Calumet — 
Dade's.  But  the  distance  was  great,  the  target 
elusive,  and  Dade's  bullets  sang  futilely. 

They  watched  Taggart  until  he  vanished,  his 
pony  running  steadily  along  a  far  level,  and  then 
Betty  turned  to  see  Calumet  looking  at  her  with  a 
twisted,  puzzled  smile. 

"You  plugged  him,  I  reckon,"  he  said,  nodding 
toward  the  vast  distance  into  which  his  enemy 
was  disappearing.     "Why,  it's  plumb  ridiculous. 
[227] 


If  my  girl  would  plug  me  that  way,  I'd  sure 
feel—" 

His  meaning  was  plain,  though  he  did  not  finish. 
She  looked  at  him  straight  in  the  eyes  though  her 
face  was  crimson  and  her  lips  trembled  a  little. 

"You  are  a  brute  1 "  she  said.  Turning  swiftly 
she  began  to  descend  the  slope  toward  the  ranch- 
house. 

Calumet  stood  looking  after  her  for  a  moment, 
his  face  working  with  various  emotions  that  strug 
gled  for  expression.  Then,  ignoring  Dade,  who 
stood  near  him,  plainly  puzzled  over  this  enigma, 
he  walked  over  to  the  edge  of  the  wood  where 
Taggart's  rifle  lay,  picked  it  up  and  made  his 
way  to  the  ranchhouse. 


[228] 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MORE    PROGRESS 

A  STRANGE  thing  was  happening  to  Calu 
met.  His  character  was  in  the  process  of 
remaking.  Slowly  and  surely  Betty's  good  influ 
ence  was  making  itself  felt.  This  in  spite  of  his 
knowledge  of  her  secret  meeting  with  Neal 
Taggart.  To  be  sure,  so  far  as  his  actions  were 
concerned,  he  was  the  Calumet  of  old,  a  man  of 
violent  temper  and  vicious  impulses,  but  there 
were  growing  governors  that  were  continually 
slowing  his  passions,  strange,  new  thoughts  that 
were  thrusting  themselves  insistently  before  him. 
He  was  strangely  uncertain  of  his  attitude  toward 
Betty,  disturbed  over  his  feelings  toward  her. 
Despite  his  knowledge  of  her  secret  meeting  with 
Taggart,  with  a  full  consciousness  of  all  the  rage 
against  her  which  that  knowledge  aroused  in  him, 
he  liked  her.  At  the  same  time,  he  despised  her. 
She  was  not  honest.  He  had  no  respect  for  any 
woman  who  would  sneak  as  she  had  sneaked.  She 
was  two-faced;  she  was  trying  to  cheat  him  out 
[229] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

of  his  heritage.  She  had  deceived  his  father, 
she  was  trying  to  deceive  him.  She  was  unworthy 
of  any  admiration  whatever,  but  whenever  he 
looked  at  her,  whenever  she  was  near  him,  he 
was  conscious  of  a  longing  that  he  could  not  fight 
down. 

And  there  was  Dade.  He  often  watched  Dade 
while  they  were  working  together  on  the  bunk- 
house  in  the  days  following  the  incident  of  the 
ambush  by  Taggart.  The  feeling  that  came  over 
him  at  these  times  was  indescribable  and  disquiet 
ing,  as  was  his  emotion  whenever  Dade  smiled 
at  him.  He  had  never  experienced  the  deep, 
stirring  spirit  of  comradeship,  the  unselfish  affec 
tion  which  sometimes  unites  the  hearts  of  men; 
he  had  had  no  "chum"  during  his  youth.  But 
this  feeling  that  came  over  him  whenever  he 
looked  at  Dade  was  strangely  like  that  which  he 
had  for  his  horse,  Blackleg.  It  was  deeper,  per 
haps,  and  disturbed  him  more,  yet  it  was  the  same. 
At  the  same  time,  it  was  different.  But  he  could, 
not  tell  why.  He  liked  to  have  Dade  around  him, 
and  one  day  when  the  latter  went  to  Lazette  on 
some  errand  for  Betty  he  felt  queerly  depressed 
and  lonesome.  That  same  night  when  Dade 
*trove  into  the  ranchhouse  yard  Calumet  had 
[23°] 


MORE  PROGRESS 


smiled  at  him,  and  a  little  later  when  Dade  had 
told  Betty  about  it  he  had  added: 

"When  I  seen  him  grin  at  me  that  cordial,  I 
come  near  fallin'  off  my  horse.  I  was  that  flus 
tered!  Why,  Betty,  he's  comin'  around!  The 
durn  cuss  likes  me !  " 

"Do  you  like  him?"  inquired  Betty. 

"Sure.  Why,  shucks!  There  ain't  nothin' 
wrong  with  him  exceptin'  his  grouch.  When 
he  works  that  off  so's  it  won't  come  back  any 
more  he'll  be  plumb  man,  an'  don't  you  forget 
it!" 

There  was  no  mistaking  Calumet's  feeling 
toward  Bob.  He  pitied  the  youngster.  He 
allowed  him  to  ride  Blackleg.  He  braided  him 
a  half-sized  lariat.  He  carried  him  long  dis 
tances  on  his  back  and  waited  upon  him  at  the 
table.  Bob  became  his  champion;  the  boy  wor 
shiped  him. 

Betty  was  not  unaware  of  all  this,  and  yet  she 
continued  to  hold  herself  aloof  from  Calumet. 
She  did  not  treat  him  indifferently,  she  merely 
kept  him  at  a  distance.  Several  times  when  he 
spoke  to  her  about  Neal  Taggart  she  left  him 
without  answering,  and  so  he  knew  that  she  re 
sented  the  implication  that  he  had  expressed  on 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

the  morning  following  the  night  on  which  he  had 
discovered  her  talking  in  the  office. 

It  was  nearly  three  weeks  after  the  killing  of 
Denver  and  his  confederate  that  the  details  of  the 
story  reached  Betty's  ears,  and  Calumet  was  as 
indifferent  to  her  expressions  of  horror  —  though 
it  was  a  horror  not  unmixed  with  a  queer  note 
of  satisfaction,  over  which  he  wondered  —  as  he 
was  to  Dade's  words  of  congratulation :  "  You're 
sure  livin'  up  to  your  reputation  of  bein'  a  slick 
man  with  the  six !  " 

Nor  did  Calumet  inquire  who  had  brought  the 
news.  But  when  one  day  a  roaming  puncher 
brought  word  from  the  Arrow  that  "  young  Tag- 
gart  is  around  ag'in  after  monkeyin'  with  the 
wrong  end  of  a  gun,"  he  showed  interest.  He 
was  anxious  to  settle  the  question  which  had  been 
in  his  mind  since  the  morning  of  the  shooting. 
It  was  this:  had  Betty  meant  to  hit  Taggart 
when  she  had  shot  at  him?  He  thought  not; 
she  had  pretended  hostility  in  order  to  mislead 
him.  But  if  that  had  been  her  plan  she  had 
failed  to  fool  him,  for  he  watched  unceasingly, 
and  many  nights  when  Betty  thought  him  asleep 
he  was  secreted  in  the  wood  near  the  ranchhouse. 
He  increased  his  vigilance  after  receiving  word 
[232] 


MORE  PROGRESS 


that  Taggart  had  not  been  badly  injured.  More, 
he  rarely  allowed  Betty  to  get  out  of  his  sight, 
for  he  was  determined  to  defeat  the  plan  to  rob 
him. 

However,  the  days  passed  and  Taggart  did  not 
put  in  an  appearance.  Time  removes  the  sting 
from  many  hurts  and  even  jealousy's  pangs  are 
assuaged  by  the  flight  of  days.  And  so  after  a 
while  Calumet's  vigilance  relaxed,  and  he  began 
to  think  that  he  had  scared  Taggart  away.  He 
noted  with  satisfaction  that  Betty  seemed  to 
treat  him  less  coldly,  and  he  felt  a  pulse  of 
delight  over  the  thought  that  perhaps  she  had 
repented  and  had  really  tried  to  hit  Taggart  that 
morning. 

Once  he  seized  upon  this  idea  he  could  not 
dispel  it.  More,  it  grew  on  him,  became  a  foun 
dation  upon  which  he  built  a  structure  of  defense 
for  Betty.  Taggart  had  been  trying  to  deceive 
her.  She  had  discovered  his  intentions  and  had 
broken  with  him.  Perhaps  she  had  seen  the  in 
justice  of  her  actions.  He  began  to  wish  he  had 
treated  her  a  little  less  cruelly,  a  little  more  civilly, 
began  to  wish  that  he  had  yielded  to  those  good 
impulses  which  he  had  felt  occasionally  of  late. 
His  attitude  toward  Betty  became  almost  gentle, 

[233] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

and  there  were  times  when  she  watched  him  with 
wondering  curiosity,  as  though  not  quite  under 
standing  the  change  that  had  come  in  him. 

But  Dade  understood.  He  had  "sized"  Cal 
umet  "up"  in  those  first  days  and  his  judgment 
had  been  unerring,  as  it  was  now  when  Betty 
asked  his  opinion. 

"He's  beginnin'  to  use  his  brain  box,"  he  told 
her.  "He's  been  a  little  shy  an'  backward,  not 
knowin'  what  to  expect,  an'  makin'  friend's  bein' 
a  little  new  to  him.  But  he's  the  goods  at  bottom, 
an'  he's  sighted  a  goal  which  he's  thinkin'  to  make 
one  of  these  days." 

"A  goal?"  said  she,  puzzled. 

"Aw,  you  female  critters  is  deep  ones,"  grinned 
Dade,  "  an'  all  smeared  over  with  honey  an'  inno 
cence.  You're  the  goal  he's  after.  An'  I'm 
bettin'  he'll  get  you." 

Her  face  reddened,  and  she  looked  at  him 
plainly  indignant. 

"He  is  a  brute,"  she  said. 

"Most  all  men  is  brutes  if  you  scratch  them 
deep  enough,"  drawled  Dade.  "The  trouble 
with  Calumet  is  that  he's  never  had  a  chance  to 
spread  on  the  soft  stuff.  He's  the  plain,  unvar 
nished,  dyed-in-the-wool,  original  man.  There's 
£234] 


MORE  PROGRESS 

"  i 

a  word  fits  him,  if  I  could  think  of  it"  He 
looked  at  her  inquiringly. 

"  Primitive,  I  think  you  mean,"  she  said. 

"That's  it — primitive.  That's  him.  He's 
the  rough  material;  nobody's  ever  helped  him  to 
get  into  shape.  A  lot  of  folks  pride  themselves 
on  what  they  call  culture,  forgettin'  that  it  wasn't 
in  them  when  they  came  into  the  world,  that  it 
growed  on  them  after  they  got  here,  was  put 
there  by  trainin'  an'  example.  Not  that  I'm  ag'in 
culture ; .  it's  a  mighty  fine  thing  to  have  hangin' 
around  a  man.  But  if  a  man  ain't  got  it  an' 
still  measures  up  to  man's  size,  he's  goin'  to  be 
a  humdinger  when  he  gets  all  the  culture  that's 
comin'  to  him.  Mebbe  Calumet'll  never  get  it. 
But  he's  losin'  his  grouch,  an'  if  you — " 

"When  do  you  think  you  will  finish  repairing 
the  corral?"  interrupted  Betty. 

Dade  grinned.  "Tomorrow,  I  reckon,"  he 
said. 


[235] 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

ANOTHER  PEACE  OFFERING 

DADE'S  prediction  that  the  corral  would  be 
completed  the  next  day  was  fulfilled.  It 
was  a  large  enclosure,  covering  several  acres,  for 
in  the  Lazy  Y's  prosperous  days  there  had  been 
a  great  many  cattle  to  care  for,  and  a  roomy 
corral  is  a  convenience  always  arranged  for  by 
an  experienced  cattleman.  But  it  yawned  emptily 
for  more  than  a  week  following  its  completion. 

During  that  time  there  had  been  little  to  do. 
Dade  and  Malcolm  had  passed  several  days  tink 
ering  at  the  stable  and  the  bunkhouse;  Bob,  at 
Calumet's  suggestion,  was  engaged  in  the  humane 
task  of  erecting  a  kennel  for  the  new  dog  —  which 
had  grown  large  and  ungainly,  though  still  re 
taining  the  admiration  of  his  owner;  and  Calumet 
spent  much  of  his  time  roaming  around  the  coun 
try  on  Blackleg. 

"  Killin'  time,"  he  told  Dade. 

But  it  was  plain  to  Dade,  as  it  was  to  Betty, 
who  had  spoken  but  little  to  him  in  a  week,  that 
[236] 


'ANOTHER  PEACE  OFFERING 

Calumet  was  filled  with  speculation  and  impa 
tience  over  the  temporary  inaction.  The  work 
of  repairing  the  buildings  was  all  done.  There 
was  nothing  now  to  do  except  to  await  the  appear 
ance  of  some  cattle.  The  repair  work  had  all 
been  done  to  that  end,  and  it  was  inevitable 
that  Betty  must  be  considering  some  arrangement 
for  the  procuring  of  cattle,  but  for  a  week  she 
had  said  nothing  and  Calumet  did  not  question 
her. 

But  on  the  Monday  morning  following  the 
period  of  inaction,  Calumet  noted  at  the  break 
fast  table  that  Betty  seemed  unusually  eager  to 
have  the  meal  over.  As  he  was  leaving  the  table 
she  told  him  she  wanted  to  speak  to  him  after  her 
housework  was  done,  and  he  went  outside,  where 
he  lingered,  watching  Dade  and  Malcolm  and 
Bob. 

About  an  hour  or  so  later  Betty  came  out. 
Calumet  was  standing  at  the  corral  fence  near  the 
stable  when  she  stepped  down  from  the  porch, 
and  he  gave  a  gasp  of  astonishment  and  then 
stood  perfectly  still,  looking  at  her. 

For  the  Betty  that  he  saw  was  not  the  Betty 
he  had  grown  accustomed  to  seeing.  Not  once 
during  the  time  he  had  been  at  the  Lazy  Y  had 
[237] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

he  seen  her  except  in  a  house  dress  and  her 
appearance  now  was  in  the  nature  of  a  trans 
formation. 

She  was  arrayed  in  a  riding  habit  of  brown 
corduroy  which  consisted  of  a  divided  skirt — a 
"  doubled-barreled "  one  in  the  sarcastic  phrase 
ology  of  the  male  cowpuncher,  who  affects  to 
despise  such  an  article  of  feminine  apparel  —  a 
brown  woolen  blouse  with  a  low  collar,  above 
which  she  had  sensibly  tied  a  neckerchief  to  keep 
the  sun  and  sand  from  blistering  her  neck;  and  a 
black  felt  hat  with  a  wide  brim.  On  her  hands 
were  a  pair  of  silver-spangled  leather  gauntlets; 
encasing  her  feet  were  a  pair  of  high-topped, 
high-heeled  riding  boots,  ornamented  with  a  pair 
of  long-roweled  Mexican  spurs,  mounted  with 
silver.  She  was  carrying  a  saddle  which  was  also 
bedecked  and  bespangled  with  silver. 

Illumination  came  instantly  to  Calumet.  These 
things  —  the  saddle,  the  riding  habit,  the  spurs  — 
were  material  possessions  that  connected  her  with 
the  past.  They  were  her  personal  belongings, 
kept  and  treasured  from  the  more  prosperous 
days  of  her  earlier  life. 

At  the  first  look  he  had  felt  a  mean  impulse 
to  ridicule  her  because  of  them,  but  this  impulse 
[238] 


Her  appearance  now  was  in  tna 
nature  of  a  transformation 


ANOTHER  PEACE  OFFERING 

was  succeeded  instantly  by  a  queer  feeling  of  pity 
for  her,  and  he  kept  silent. 

But  even  had  he  ridiculed  her,  his  ridicule  would 
have  been  merely  a  mask  behind  which  he  could 
have  hidden  his  surprise  and  admiration,  for 
though  her  riding  habit  suggested  things  effete 
and  eastern,  which  are  always  to  be  condemned  on 
general  principles,  it  certainly  did  fit  her  well, 
was  becoming,  neat,  and  in  it  she  made  a  figure 
whose  attractions  were  not  to  be  denied. 

She  knew  how  to  wear  her  clothes,  too,  he 
noted  that  instantly.  She  was  at  home  in  them; 
she  graced  them,  gave  them  a  subtle  hint  of  qual 
ity  that  carried  far  and  sank  deep.  As  she  came 
toward  him  he  observed  that  her  cheeks  were  a 
trifle  flushed,  her  eyes  a  little  brighter  than  usual, 
but  for  all  that  she  was  at  ease  and  natural. 

She  stopped  in  front  of  him  and  smiled. 

"  Do  you  mind  going  over  to  the  Diamond  K 
with  me  this  morning?"  she  asked. 

"What  for?"  he  said  gruffly,  reddening  as  he 
thought  she  might  see  the  admiration  which  was 
slumbering  in  his  eyes. 

14  To  buy  some  cattle,"  she  returned.  "  Kelton, 
of  the  Diamond  K,  hasn't  been  fortunate  this 
season.  Little  Darby  has  been  dry  nearly  all 
[239] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

of  the  time  and  there  has  been  little  good  grass 
on  his  range.  In  the  first  place,  he  had  too  much 
stock,  even  if  conditions  were  right  I  have 
heard  that  Kelton  offered  to  pay  the  Taggarts 
for  the  use  of  part  of  their  grass,  but  they  have 
never  been  friends  and  the  Taggarts  wanted  to 
charge  him  an  outrageous  price  for  the  privilege. 
Therefore,  Kelton  is  anxious  to  get  rid  of  some 
of  his  stock.  We  need  cattle  and  we  can  get  them 
from  him  at  a  reasonable  figure.  He  has  some 
white  Herefords  that  I  would  like  to  get." 

He  cleared  his  throat  and  hesitated,  frowning 

"Why  don't  you  take  Dade  —  or  Malcolm?'* 
he  suggested. 

She  looked  straight  at  him.  "Don't  be  prig- 
gish,"  she  said.  "  Dade  and  Malcolm  have  notb  . 
ing  to  do  with  the  running  of  this  ranch.  I  war.t 
you  to  go  with  me,  because  I  am  going  to  buy  some 
cattle  and  I  want  you  to  confirm  the  deal." 

He  laughed.  "  Do  you  reckon  you  need  to  go 
at  all?"  he  said.  "I  figure  to  know  cattle  some 
myself,  an'  I  wouldn't  let  Kelton  hornswoggle 
me." 

She    straightened,    her    chin    lifting    a    little. 
"Well,"  she  said  slowly,  "if  that  is  the  way  you 
feel,  I  presume  I  shall  have  to  go  alone.     I  had 
[240] 


ANOTHER  PEACE  OFFERING 

thought,  though,  that  the  prospective  owner  of 
the  Lazy  Y  might  have  enough  interest  in  his 
property  to  put  aside  his  likes  and  dislikes  long 
enough  to  care  for  his  own  interests.  Also," 
she  added,  "  where  I  came  from,  no  man  would  be 
ungentlemanly  enough  to  refuse  to  accompany  a 
lady  anywhere  she  might  ask  him  to  go." 

The  flush  on  his  face  grew.  But  he  refused 
to  become  disconcerted.  "I  reckon  to  be  as 
much  of  a  gentleman  as  any  Texas  guy,"  he  said. 
"But  I  expect,  though,"  he  added;  "to  prove 
that  to  you  I'll  have  to  trail  along  after  you." 

"  Of  course,"  she  said,  the  corners  of  her  mouth 
dimpling  a  little. 

He  went  down  to  the  corral,  roped  the  most 
gentle  and  best  appearing  one  of  the  two  horses 
he  had  bought  in  Lazette,  caught  up  his  own 
horse,  Blackleg,  and  brought  them  to  the  stable, 
where  he  saddled  and  bridled  them.  Before  put 
ting  the  bridle  on  her  horse,  however,  he  found  an 
opportunity  to  work  off  part  of  the  resentment 
which  had  accumulated  in  him  over  her  reference 
to  his  conduct. 

After  adjusting  the  saddle,  paying  particular 
attention  to  the  cinches,  he  straightened  and 
looked  at  her. 

[241 1 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  L'AZY  Y 

"  Do  you  reckon  to  have  a  bridle  that  belongs 
to  that  right  pretty  saddle  an'  suit  of  yourn?" 
he  asked. 

She  cast  a  swift  glance  about  her  and  blushed. 
"Oh,"  she  said;  "I  have  forgotten  it!  It  is  in 
my  room ! " 

"  I  reckon  I'd  get  it  if  T  was  thinkin'  of  goin1 
ridin',"  he  said.  "  Some  folks  seem  to  think  that 
when  you're  ridin'  a  horse  a  bridle  is  right  handy." 

"Well,"  she  said,  smiling  at  him  as  she  went 
out  the  stable  door;  "it  has  been  a  long  time 
since  I  have  had  these  things  on,  and  perhaps  I 
was  a  little  nervous." 

At  this  reference  to  her  past  the  pulse  of  pity 
which  he  had  felt  for  her  before  again  shot  over 
him.  He  had  seen  a  quick  sadness  in  her  eyes, 
lurking  behind  the  smile. 

"  I  reckon  you've  been  stayin'  in  the  house  too 
much,"  he  said  gruffly. 

She  hesitated,  going  out  of  the  door,  to  look 
back  at  him,  astonishment  and  something  more 
subtle  glinting  her  eyes.  He  saw  it  and  frowned. 

"  It's  twelve  miles  to  the  Diamond  K,"  he  sug 
gested;  "an'  twelve  back.  If  you're  figgerin'  on 
ridin'  that  distance  an'  takin'  time  between  to  look 
at  any  cattle  mebbe  you'd  better  get  a  move  on." 
[242] 


ANOTHER  PEACE  OFFERING 

She  was  out  of  the  door  before  he  had  ceased 
speaking  and  in  an  incredibly  short  time  was  back, 
a  little  breathless,  her  face  flushed  as  though  she 
had  been  running. 

He  put  the  bridle  on  her  horse,  led  it  out,  and 
condescended  to  hold  the  stirrup  for  her,  a  service 
which  she  acknowledged  with  a  flashing  smile  that 
brought  a  reluctant  grin  to  his  face. 

Then,  swinging  into  his  own  saddle,  he  urged 
Blackleg  after  her,  for  she  had  not  waited  for 
him,  riding  down  past  the  ranchhouse  and  out 
into  the  little  stretch  of  plain  that  reached  to  the 
river. 

They  rode  steadily,  talking  little,  for  Calumet 
deliberately  kept  a  considerable  distance  between 
them,  thus  showing  her  that  though  courtesy  had 
forced  him  to  accompany  her  it  could  not  demand 
that  he  should  also  become  a  mark  at  which  she 
could  direct  conversation. 

It  was  noon  when  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
Diamond  K  ranch  buildings.  They  were  on  a 
wide  plain  near  the  river  and  what  grass  there 
was  was  sun-scorched  and  rustled  dryly  under  the 
tread  of  their  horses'  hoofs.  Then  Calumet 
added  a  word  to  the  few  that  he  had  already 
spoken  during  the  ride. 

[243] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"  I  reckon  Kelton  must  have  been  loco  to  try 
to  raise  cattle  in  a  God-forsaken  hole  like  this," 
he  said  with  a  sneer. 

"That  he  was  foolish  enough  to  do  so  will 
result  to  our  advantage,"  she  replied. 

"Meanin1  what?" 

"That  we  will  be  able  to  buy  what  cattle  we 
want  more  cheaply  than  we  would  were  Kelton's 
range  what  it  should  be,"  she  returned,  watching 
his  face. 

He  looked  at  her  vindictively.  "You're  one 
of  them  kind  of  humans  that  like  to  take  ad 
vantage  of  a  man's  misfortune,"  he  said. 

"That  is  all  in  the  viewpoint,"  she  defended. 
"  I  didn't  bring  misfortune  to  Kelton.  And  I  con 
sider  that  in  buying  his  cattle  I  am  doing  him  a 
favor.  I  am  not  gloating  over  the  opportunity 
—  it  is  merely  business." 

"Why  didn't  you  offer  Kelton  the  Lazy  Y 
range?"  he  said  with  a  twisting  grin. 

She  could  not  keep  the  triumph  out  of  her 
voice.  "I  did,"  she  answered.  "He  wouldn't 
take  it  because  he  didn't  like  you  —  doesn't  like 
you.  He  told  me  that  he  knew  you  when  you 
were  a  boy  and  you  weren't  exactly  his  style." 

Thus  eliminated  as  a  conversationalist,  and 
[244] 


ANOTHER  PEACE  OFFERING 

defeated  in  his  effort  to  cast  discredit  upon  her, 
Calumet  maintained  a  sneering  silence. 

But  when  they  rode  up  to  the  Diamond  K  ranch- 
house,  he  flung  a  parting  word  at  her. 

"I  reckon  you  can  go  an'  talk  cattle  to  your 
man,  Kelton,"  he  said.  "I'm  afraid  that  if  he 
goes  gassin'  to  me  I'll  smash  his  face  in." 

He  rode  back  to  the  horse  corral,  which  they 
had  passed,  to  look  again  at  t  horse  inside  which 
had  attracted  his  attention. 

The  animal  was  glossy  black  except  for  a  little 
patch  of  white  above  the  right  fore-fetlock;  he 
was  tall,  rangy,  clean-limbed,  high-spirited,  and 
as  Calumet  sat  in  the  saddle  near  the  corral  gate 
watching  him  he  trotted  impudently  up  to  the 
bars  and  looked  him  over.  Then,  after  a  moment, 
satisfying  his  curiosity,  he  wheeled,  slashed  at  the 
gate  with  both  hoofs,  and  with  a  snort,  that  in 
the  horse  language  might  have  meant  contempt  or 
derision,  cavorted  away. 

Calumet's  admiring  glance  followed  him.  He 
sat  in  the  saddle  for  half  an  hour,  eyeing  the  horse 
critically,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time,  noting  that 
Betty  had  returned  to  the  ranchhouse  with  Kelton, 
probably  having  looked  at  some  of  the  stock  she 
had  come  to  see  —  Calumet  had  observed  on  his 
[245] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

approach  that  the  cattle  corral  was  well  filled  with 
white  Herefords  —  he  wheeled  Blackleg  and  rode 
over  to  them. 

"Mr.  Kelton  has  offered  me  four  hundred 
head  of  cattle  at  a  reasonable  figure,"  Betty  told 
him  on  his  approach.  "All  that  remains  is  for 
you  to  confirm  it." 

"  I  reckon  you're  the  boss,"  said  Calumet.  He 
looked  at  Kelton,  and  evidently  his  fear  that  he 
would  "smash"  the  latter's  face  had  vanished  — 
perhaps  in  a  desire  to  possess  the  black  horse, 
which  had  seized  him. 

"I  reckon  you  ain't  sellin'  that  black  horse ?" 
he  said. 

"  Cheap,"  said  Kelton  quickly. 

"How  cheap?" 

"  Fifty  dollars." 

"  I  reckon  he's  my  horse,"  said  Calumet.  "  The 
boss  of  the  Lazy  Y  will  pay  for  him  when  she 
hands  you  the  coin  for  your  cattle."  He  scru 
tinized  Kelton's  face  closely,  having  caught  a 
note  in  his  voice  which  had  interested  him.  "  Why 
you  wantin'  to  get  rid  of  the  black?"  he  ques 
tioned. 

"He  ain't  been  rode,"  said  Kelton;  "he  won't 
be  rode.  You  can  back  out  of  that  sale  now,  if 
[246] 


ANOTHER  PEACE  OFFERING 

you  like.  But  I'm  tellin'  you  the  gospel  truth. 
There  ain't  no  man  in  the  Territory  can  ride  him. 
Miskell,  my  regular  bronc-buster,  is  the  slickest 
man  that  ever  forked  a  horse,  an'  he's  layin'  down 
in  the  bunkhouse  right  now,  nursin'  a  leg  which 
that  black  devil  busted  last  week.  An'  men  is 
worth  more  to  me  than  horses  right  now.  I 
reckon,"  he  finished,  eyeing  Calumet  with  a  cer 
tain  vindictiveness,  which  had  undoubtedly  lasted 
over  from  his  acquaintance  with  the  latter  in  the 
old  days;  "  that  you  ain't  a  heap  smart  at  breakin' 
broncs,  an'  you  won't  want  the  black  now." 

"  I'm  reckonin'  on  ridin'  him  back  to  the  Lazy 
Y,"  said  Calumet. 

Kelton  grinned  incredulously,  and  Betty  looked 
swiftly  at  Calumet.  For  an  instant  she  had  half 
feared  that  this  declaration  had  been  made  in  a 
spirit  of  bravado,  and  she  was  prepared  to  be 
disagreeably  disappointed  in  Calumet.  She  told 
herself  when  she  saw  his  face,  however,  that  she 
ought  to  have  known  better,  for  whatever  his 
other  shortcomings  she  had  never  heard  him 
boast. 

And  that  he  was  not  boasting  now  was  plainly 
evident,  both  to  her  and  Kelton.      His  declara 
tion  had  been  merely  a  calm  announcement  of  a 
[247] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

deliberate  purpose.  He  was  as  natural  now  as 
he  had  been  all  along.  She  saw  Kelton's  expres 
sion  change  —  saw  the  incredulity  go  out  of  it, 
observed  his  face  whiten  a  little. 

But  his  former  vindictiveness  remained.  "  I 
reckon  if  you  want  to  be  a  damn  fool  I  ain't 
interferin'.  But  I've  warned  you,  an'  it's  your 
funeral." 

Calumet  did  not  reply,  contenting  himself  with 
grinning.  He  swung  down  from  Blackleg,  re 
moved  the  saddle  and  bridle  from  the  animal, 
and  holding  the  latter  by  the  forelock  turned  to 
Betty. 

"  I'd  like  you  to  ride  Blackleg  home.  He's 
your  horse  now.  Kelton  will  lend  you  a  halter 
to  lead  that  skate  you're  on.  While  he's  gettin' 
the  halter  I'll  put  your  saddle  on  Blackleg — if 
you'll  get  off." 

Betty  dismounted  and  the  change  was  made. 
She  had  admired  Blackleg  —  she  was  in  love  with 
him  now  that  he  belonged  to  her,  .but  she  was 
afflicted  with  a  sudden  speechlessness  over  the 
abruptness  with  which  he  had  made  the  gift.  She 
wanted  to  thank  him,  but  she  felt  it  was  not  time. 
Besides,  he  had  not  waited  for  her  thanks.  He 
had  placed  the  halter  on  the  horse  she  had  ridden 
[248] 


ANOTHER  PEACE  OFFERING 

to  the  Diamond  K,  had  looked  on  saturninely 
while  Kelton  had  helped  her  into  the  saddle,  and 
had  then  carried  his  own  saddle  to  a  point  near 
the  outside  of  the  corral  fence,  laying  the  bridle 
beside  it.  Then  he  uncoiled  the  braided  hair 
lariat  that  hung  at  the  pommel  of  the  saddle  and 
walked  to  the  corral  gate. 

With  a  little  pulse  of  joy  over  her  possession 
of  the  splendid  animal  under  her,  and  an  impulse 
of  curiosity,  she  urged  him  to  the  corral  fence  and 
sat  in  the  saddle,  a  little  white  of  face,  watching 
Calumet. 

The  black  horse  was  alone  in  the  corral  and  as 
Calumet  entered  and  closed  the  gate  behind  him, 
not  fastening  it,  the  black  came  toward  him  with 
mincing  steps,  its  ears  laid  back. 

Calumet  continued  to  approach  him.  The  black 
backed  away  slowly  until  Calumet  was  within 
fifty  feet  of  him  —  it  seemed  to  Betty  that  the 
horse  knew  from  previous  experience  the  length 
of  a  rope  —  and  then  with  a  snort  of  defiance  it 
wheeled  and  raced  to  the  opposite  end  of  the 
corral. 

"  Watch  the  gate  I  "  called  Calumet  to  Kelton. 

He  continued  to  approach  the  black.  The 
beast  retreated  along  the  fence,  stepping  high, 
[249] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

watching  Calumet  over  its  shoulder.  Plainly,  it 
divined  Calumet's  intention  —  which  was  to 
crowd  it  into  a  corner — and  when  almost  there 
it  halted  suddenly,  made  a  feint  to  pass  to  Calu 
met's  left,  wheeled  just  as  suddenly  and  plunged 
back  to  his  right. 

The  ruse  did  not  work.  Calumet  had  been 
holding  his  rope  low,  with  seeming  carelessness, 
but  as  the  black  whipped  past  he  gave  the  rope 
a  quick  flirt.  Like  a  sudden  snake  it  darted  sinu 
ously  out,  the  loop  opened,  rose,  settled  around 
the  black's  neck,  tightened;  the  end  in  Calumet's 
hand  was  flipped  in  a  half  hitch  around  a  snubbing 
post  nearby,  and  the  black  tumbled  headlong  into 
the  dust  of  the  corral,  striking  with  a  force  that 
brought  a  grunt  from  him. 

For  an  instant  he  lay  still.  And  in  that  instant 
Calumet  was  at  his  side.  While  advancing  toward 
the  black,  he  had  taken  off  his  neckerchief,  and 
now  he  deftly  knotted  it  around  the  black's  head, 
covering  its  eyes.  A  moment  later  he  was  leading 
it,  unprotesting,  out  of  the  corral  gate. 

He  halted  near  the  fence  and  looked  at  Betty, 
who  was  watching  critically,  though  with  a  tense 
ness  in  her  attitude  that  brought  a  fugitive  smile 
to  Calumet's  lips. 

[250] 


ANOTHER  PEACE  OFFERING 

"  I  reckon  you'd  better  move  a  way  an'  give 
this  here  animal  plenty  of  room,"  he  said.  "  If 
he's  as  much  horse  as  Kelton  says  he  is  he'll  want 
a  heap  of  it." 

He  waited  until  in  obedience  to  his  suggestion 
Betty  had  withdrawn  to  a  safe  distance  toward 
the  ranchhouse.  Then  with  Kelton  holding  the 
black's  head  he  placed  the  saddle  on,  then  the 
bridle,  working  with  a  sure  swiftness  that  brought 
an  admiring  glint  into  Betty's  eyes.  Then  he 
deliberately  coiled  his  rope  and  fastened  it  to 
the  pommel  of  the  saddle,  taking  extra  care 
with  it  This  done  he  turned  with  a  cold  grin  to 
Kelton,  nodding  his  head  shortly. 

Kelton  pulled  the  neckerchief  from  the  black's 
eyes,  let  go  of  its  head,  and  scurried  to  the  top 
of  the  corral  fence.  Before  he  could  reach  it 
Calumet  had  vaulted  into  the  saddle,  and  before 
the  black  could  realize  what  had  happened,  his 
feet  were  in  the  stirrups. 

For  an  instant  the  Black  stood,  its  legs  tremb- 
bling,  the  muscles  under  its  glossy  coat  quivering, 
its  ears  laid  flat,  its  nostrils  distended,  its  mouth 
open,  its  eyes  wild  and  bloodshot.  Then,  tensed 
for  movement,  but  uncertain,  waiting  a  brief  in 
stant  before  yielding  to  the  thousand  impulses  that 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

flashed  over  him,  he  felt  the  rowels  of  Calumet's 
spurs  as  they  were  driven  viciously  into  his  sides. 

He  sprang  wildly  upward,  screaming  with  the 
sudden  pain,  and  came  down,  his  legs  asprawl, 
surprised,  enraged,  outraged.  Alighting,  he  in 
stantly  lunged  —  forward,  sideways,  with  an 
eccentric  movement  which  he  felt  must  dislodge 
the  tormentor  on  his  back.  It  was  futile,  attended 
with  punishment,  for  again  the  sharp  spurs  sank 
in,  were  jammed  into  his  sides,  held  there  — 
rolling,  biting  points  of  steel  that  hurt  him  ter 
ribly. 

He  halted  for  a  moment,  to  gather  his  wits 
and  his  strength,  for  his  former  experiences  with 
this  strange  type  of  creature  who  clung  so  tena 
ciously  to  his  back  had  taught  him  that  he  must 
use  all  his  craft,  all  his  strength,  to  dislodge  him. 
To  his  relief,  the  spurs  ceased  to  bite.  But  he 
was  not  misled.  There  was  that  moment  near 
the  corral  fence  when  he  had  not  moved,  but  still 
the  spurs  had  sunk  in  anyway.  He  would  make 
certain  this  time  that  the  creature  with  the  spurs 
would  not  have  another  opportunity  to  use  them. 
And,  gathering  himself  for  a  supreme  effort,  he 
lunged  again,  shunting  himself  off  toward  a  stretch 
of  plain  back  of  the  ranchhouse,  bounding  like 
[252] 


'ANOTHER  PEACE  OFFERING 

a  ball,  his  back  arched,  his  head  between  his  fore 
legs,  coming  down  from  each  rise  with  his  hoofs 
bunched  so  that  they  might  have  all  landed  in  a 
dinner  plate. 

It  was  fruitless.  Calumet  remained  unshaken, 
tenacious  as  ever.  The  black  caught  his  breath 
again,  and  for  the  next  five  minutes  practiced  his 
whole  category  of  tricks,  and  in  addition  some 
that  he  invented  in  the  stress  of  the  time. 

To  Betty,  watching  from  her  distance,  it  seemed 
that  he  must  certainly  unseat  Calumet.  She  had 
watched  bucking  horses  before,  but  never  had  her 
interest  in  the  antics  of  one  been  so  intense;  never 
had  she  been  so  desperately  eager  for  a  rider's 
victory;  never  had  she  felt  so  breathlessly  fearful 
of  one's  defeat.  For,  glancing  from  the  corners 
of  her  eyes  at  Kelton,  she  saw  a  scornful,  mocking 
smile  on  his  face.  He  was  wishing,  hoping,  that 
the  black  would  throw  Calumet. 

At  the  risk  of  danger  from  the  black's  hoofs 
she  urged  Blackleg  forward  to  a  more  advan 
tageous  position.  As  she  brought  him  to  a  halt, 
she  heard  Kelton  beside  her. 

"  Some  sunfisher,  that  black,"  he  remarked. 

She  turned  on  him  fiercely.  "  Keep  still,  can't 
you !  "  she  said. 

[253] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

Kelton  reddened;  she  did  not  see  his  face 
though,  for  she  was  watching  Calumet  and  the 
black. 

The  outlaw  had  not  ceased  his  efforts.  On  the 
contrary,  it  appeared  that  he  was  just  beginning 
to  warm  to  his  work.  Screaming  with  rage  and 
hate  he  sprang  forward  at  a  dead  run,  propelling 
himself  with  the  speed  of  a  bullet  for  a  hundred 
yards,  only  to  come  to  a  dizzying,  terrifying  stop ; 
standing  on  his  hind  legs;  pawing  furiously  at 
the  air  with  his  forehoofs;  tearing  impotently  at 
the  bit  with  his  teeth,  slashing  with  terrific  force 
in  the  fury  of  his  endeavor. 

Calumet's  hat  had  come  off  during  the  first 
series  of  bucks.  The  grin  that  had  been  on  his 
face  when  he  had  got  into  the  saddle  back  near 
the  corral  fence  was  gone,  had  been  superseded 
by  a  grimness  that  Betty  could  see  even  from  the 
distance  from  which  she  watched.  He  was  a 
rider  though,  she  saw  that — had  seen  it  from 
the  first.  She  had  seen  many  cowboy  breakers 
of  wild  horses;  she  knew  the  confident  bearing 
of  them;  the  quickness  with  which  they  adjusted 
their  muscles  to  the  eccentric  movements  of  the 
horse  under  them,  anticipating  their  every  action, 
so  far  as  anyone  was  able  to  anticipate  the  actions 
[254] 


'ANOTHER  PEACE  OFFERING 

of  a  rage-maddened  demon  who  has  only  one  de 
sire,  to  kill  or  maim  its  rider,  and  she  knew  that 
Calumet  was  an  expert.  He  was  cool,  first  of 
all,  in  spite  of  his  grimness;  he  kept  his  temper, 
he  was  absolutely  without  fear;  he  was  implac 
able,  inexorable  in  his  determination  to  conquer. 
Somehow  the  battle  between  horse  and  man,  as  it 
raged  up  and  down  before  her,  sometimes  shift 
ing  to  the  far  end  of  the  level,  sometimes  coming 
so  near  that  she  could  see  the  expression  of  Calu 
met's  face  plainly,  seemed  to  be  a  contest  between 
kindred  spirits.  The  analogy,  perhaps,  might  not 
have  been  perceived  by  anyone  less  intimately  ac 
quainted  with  Calumet,  or  by  anyone  who  under 
stood  a  horse  less,  but  she  saw  it,  and  knowing 
Calumet's  innate  savagery,  his  primal  stubborn 
ness,  his  passions,  the  naked  soul  of  the  man,  she 
began  to  feel  that  the  black  was  waging  a  hopeless 
struggle.  He  could  never  win  unless  some  acci 
dent  happened. 

And  they  were  very  near  her  when  it  seemed 
that  an  accident  did  happen. 

The  black,  his  tongue  now  hanging  out,  the 
foam  that  issued  from  his  mouth  flecked  with 
blood;  his  sides  in  a  lather;  his  flanks  moist  and 
torn  from  the  cruel  spur-points,  seemed  to  be 

[255] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

losing  his  cunning  and  to  be  trusting  entirely  to 
his  strength  and  yielding  to  his  rage.  She  could 
hear  his  breath  coming  shrilly  as  he  tore  past 
her;  the  whites  of  his  eyes  white  no  longer,  but 
red  with  the  murder  lust.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
he  must  divine  that  defeat  was  imminent,  and  in 
a  transport  of  despair  he  was  determined  to  stake 
all  on  a  last  reckless  move. 

As  he  flashed  past  her  she  looked  at  Calumet 
also.  His  face  was  pale;  there  was  a  splotch  of 
blood  on  his  lips  which  told  of  an  internal  hemor 
rhage  brought  on  by  the  terrific  jarring  that  he 
had  received,  but  in  his  eyes  was  an  expression  of 
unalterable  resolve;  the  grim,  cold,  immutable 
calm  of  purpose.  Oh,  he  would  win,  she  knew. 
Nothing  but  death  could  defeat  him.  That  was 
his  nature  —  his  character.  There  was  no  alter 
native.  He  saw  none,  would  admit  none.  He 
found  time,  as  he  went  past  her,  to  grin  at  her, 
and  the  grin,  though  a  trifle  wan,  contained  much 
of  its  old  mockery  and  contempt  of  her  judgment 
of  him. 

The  black  raced  on  for  a  hundred  yards,  and 

what  ensued  might  have  been  an  accident,  or  it 

might   have   been    the    deliberate    result   of   the 

black's  latest  trick.      He  came  to  a  sudden  stop, 

[256] 


ANOTHER  PEACE  OFFERING 

rose  on  his  hind  legs  and  threw  himself  backward, 
toppling,  rigid,  upon  his  back  to  the  ground. 

As  he  rose  for  the  fall  Calumet  slipped  out  of 
the  saddle  and  leaped  sideways  to  escape  being 
crushed.  He  succeeded  in  this  effort,  but  as  he 
leaped  the  spur  on  his  right  heel  caught  in  the 
hollow  of  the  black's  hip  near  the  flank,  the  foot 
refused  to  come  free,  it  caught,  jammed,  and 
Calumet  fell  heavily  beside  the  horse,  luckily  a 
little  to  one  side,  so  that  the  black  lay  prone 
beside  him. 

Betty's  scream  was  sharp  and  shrill.  But  no 
one  heard  it  —  at  least  Kelton  seemed  not  to  hear, 
for  he  was  watching  Calumet,  his  eyes  wide,  his 
face  white;  nor  did  Calumet  seem  to  hear,  for 
he  was  sitting  on  the  ground,  trying  to  work  his 
foot  out  of  the  stirrup.  Twice,  as  he  worked 
with  the  foot,  Betty  saw  the  black  strike  at  him 
with  its  hoofs,  and  once  a  hoof  missed  his  head  by 
the  narrowest  of  margins. 

But  the  foot  was  free  at  last,  and  Calumet  rose. 
He  still  held  the  reins  in  his  hands,  and  now,  as 
he  got  to  his  feet,  he  jerked  out  the  quirt  that 
he  wore  at  his  waist  and  lashed  the  black,  vigor 
ously,  savagely. 

The  beast  rose,  snorting  with  rage  and  pain,  still 
[257] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

unsubdued.  His  hind  legs  had  not  yet  straight 
ened  when  Calumet  was  again  in  the  saddle.  The 
black  screamed,  with  a  voice  almost  human  in  its 
shrillness,  and  leaped  despairingly  forward,  shak 
ing  its  head  from  side  to  side  as  Calumet  drove 
the  spurs  deep  into  its  sides.  It  ran  another 
hundred  yards,  half-heartedly,  the  spring  gone 
out  of  its  stride;  then  wheeled  and  came  back, 
bucking  doggedly,  clumsily,  to  a  point  within  fifty 
feet  of  where  Betty  sat  on  Blackleg.  Then,  as  it 
bucked  again,  it  came  down  with  its  forelegs  un- 
jointed,  and  rolled  over  on  its  side,  with  Calumet's 
right  leg  beneath  it. 

The  black  was  tired  and  lay  with  its  neck  out 
stretched  on  the  ground,  breathing  heavily,  its 
sides  heaving.  Calumet  also,  was  not  averse  to 
a  rest  and  had  straightened  and  lay,  an  arm  under 
his  head,  waiting. 

Betty  smiled,  for  though  he  appeared  to  be  in  a 
position  which  might  result  in  a  crushed  leg  or 
foot,  she  knew  that  he  was  in  no  danger,  because 
the  heavy  ox-bow  stirrup  afforded  protection  for 
his  foot,  while  the  wide  seat  of  the  saddle  kept 
the  upper  part  of  his  leg  from  injury.  She  had 
seen  the  cowboys  roll  under  their  horses  in  this 
manner  many  times,  deliberately  —  it  saved  them 
[258] 


'ANOTHER  PEACE  OFFERING 


the  strenuous  work  of  alighting  and  remounting. 
They  had  done  it,  too,  for  the  opportunity  it 
afforded  them  to  rest  and  to  hurl  impolite  verbi 
age  at  their  horses. 

But  Calumet  was  silent.  She  rode  a  little  closer 
to  him,  to  look  at  him,  and  when  his  eyes  met  hers; 
she  saw  that  his  spirit  was  in  no  way  touched;  that 
his  job  of  subduing  the  black  was  not  yet  finished 
and  that  he  purposed  to  finish  it. 

"We're  goin'  in  a  minute,"  he  said  to  her,  his 
voice  a  little  husky.  "  I'd  thank  you  to  bring  my 
hat.  I  don't  reckon  you'll  be  able  to  keep  up 
with  us,  but  I  reckon  you'll  excuse  me  for  runnin' 
away  from  you." 

He  had  scarcely  finished  speaking  before  the 
black  struggled  to  rise.  Calumet  helped  him  by 
keeping  a  loose  rein  and  lifting  his  own  body. 
And  when  the  black  swung  over  and  got  to  its 
feet,  Calumet  settled  firmly  into  the  saddle  and 
instantly  jammed  his  spurs  home  into  its  flanks. 
,The  black  reared,  snorted,  came  down  and  began 
to  run  desperately  across  the  level,  desiring  noth 
ing  so  much  now  as  to  do  the  bidding  of  the  will 
which  he  had  discovered  to  be  superior  to  his  own. 

Betty  watched  in  silence  as  horse  and  rider  went 
over  the  level,  traveling  in  a  dust  cloud,  and  when 
[259] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

they  began  to  fade  she  turned  to  Kelton.      The 
latter  was  crestfallen,  glum. 

\  "Shucks,"  he  said;  "if  I'd  have  thought  he'd 
break  the  black  devil  he  wouldn't  have  got  him  for 
twice  fifty  dollars.  He's  sure  a  slick,  don't-give- 
a-damn  buster." 

f~  Betty  smiled  mysteriously  and  went  to  look  for 
Calumet's  hat.  Then,  riding  Blackleg  and  lead 
ing  the  other  horse,  she  went  toward  the  Lazy  Y. 
It  was  dusk  when  she  arrived,  to  be  greeted  by 
Dade  and  Bob.  She  saw  the  black  horse  in  the 
corral  and  she  knew  that  Calumet  had  won  the 
victory,  for  the  black's  head  dropped  dejectedly 
and  she  had  never  seen  an  animal  that  seemed 
less  spirited.  It  did  not  surprise  her  to  find  that 
Calumet  looked  tired,  and  when  she  came  down 
stairs  from  changing  her  dress  and  got  supper  for 
them  all,  she  did  not  mention  the  incident  of  the 
breaking  of  the  black.  Nor  would  he  talk,  though 
she  was  intensely  curious  as  to  the  motive  which 
had  prompted  him  to  make  her  a  present  of 
Blackleg.  Was  it  an  indication  that  he  was  feel 
ing  more  friendly  to  her,  or  had  he  merely  grown 
tired  of  Blackleg? 

The  answer  came  to  her  late  that  night,  after 
Calumet  had  retired.      Betty  and  Dade  were  in 
[260] 


ANOTHER  PEACE  OFFERING 

the  kitchen;  Malcolm  and  Bob  were  in  the  sitting- 
room.  Betty  had  taken  Dade  into  her  confidence 
and  had  related  to  him  the  happenings  of  the  day 
—  so  far  as  she  could  without  acquainting  him 
with  the  state  of  her  feelings  toward  Calumet. 

"So  he  can  ride  some?"  commented  Dade, 
after  she  had  told  him  about  the  black.  "  I 
reckon  he'd  bust  that  horse  or  break  his  neck. 
But  he  was  in  bad  shape  when  he  rode  in  —  almost 
fell  out  of  the  saddle,  an'  staggered  scandalous 
when  he  walked.  All  in.  Didn't  make  a 
whimper,  though.  Clear  grit.  He  grinned  at 
me  when  he  turned  the  black  into  the  corral. 

"'Does  that  cayuse  look  busted?'  he  said. 

"  I  allowed  he  had  that  appearance,  an'  he 
laughed. 

"  '  I've  give  Betty  Blackleg,'  he  said.  *  I've  got 
tired  of  him.' " 

Betty's  disappointment  showed  in  her  eyes;  she 
had  suspected  that  Calumet  had  had  another  rea 
son.  She  had  hoped  — 

"  I  reckon,  though,  that  that  wasn't  his  real 
reason,"  continued  Dade;  "he  wasn't  showin'  all 
of  his  hand  there." 

"What  makes  you  think  that?"  asked  Betty, 
trying  not  to  blush. 

[261] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"Well,"  said  Dadc,  "I  was  walkin'  round  the 
stable  a  while  ago,  just  nosin'  around  without  any 
purpose,  an'  walkin'  slow.  When  I  got  to  the 
corner,  not  makin'  any  noise,  I  saw  Calumet 
standin'  in  front  of  the  stable  door,  talkin'.  There 
was  nobody  around  him  —  nothin'  but  Blackleg, 
an'  so  I  reckon  he  was  talkin'  to  Blackleg.  Sure 
enough  he  was.  He  puts  his  head  up  against 
Blackleg's  head,  an'  he  said,  soft  an'  low,  kinda : 

"'Blackleg,'  he  said;  'I've  give  you  away.  I 
hated  like  poison  to  do  it,  but  I  reckon  Betty'll 
look  a  heap  better  on  you  than  she  does  on  that 
skate  she  rode  today.  Damn  that  black  devil !  * 
he  said,  *  I  wouldn't  have  took  the  job  of  breakin* 
him  for  any  other  woman  in  the  world.' 

"I  come  away  then,"  concluded  Bade;  "for 
somehow  I  didn't  want  him  to  know  there  was 
anybody  around  to  hear  him." 

Betty  got  up  quickly  and  went  out  on  the  porch. 
She  stood  there,  looking  out  into  the  darkness  for 
a  long,  long  time,  and  presently  Bade  grew  tired 
of  waiting  for  her  and  went  to  his  room. 


[262] 


CHAPTER  XIX 

3 

A   TRAGEDY  IN  THE   TIMBER   GROVE 

THE  black  was  undoubtedly  broken.  His 
subsequent  actions  proved  that.  He  did 
not  become  docile  by  any  means,  but  he  was  tract 
able,  which  is  to  say  that  he  did  as  he  was  bidden 
with  a  minimum  of  urging;  he  was  intelligent, 
divining,  and  learned  quickly.  Also,  he  respected 
his  conqueror.  If  Dade  or  Malcolm  came  near 
him  he  gave  unmistakable  evidence  of  hostility; 
he  even  shied  at  sight  of  Betty,  who  was  his  most 
sincere  admirer,  for  had  not  his  coming  to  the 
Lazy  Y  been  attended  with  a  sentiment  not  the 
less  satisfying  because  concealed? 

But  the  black  suffered  Calumet's  advances,  his 
authority,  his  autocratic  commands,  with  a  patience 
that  indicated  that  his  subjugation  was  to  be  com 
plete  and  lasting. 

When,  toward  the  middle  of  the  week,  Kelton's 

men  —  two  bepistoled,  capable  punchers  —  drove 

the  cattle  comprising  the  Lazy  Y  purchase  into 

the  valley,  Calumet  immediately  set  to  work  to 

[263] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

train  the  black  to  observe  the  various  niceties  of. 
the  etiquette  of  cow-punching.  He  soon  learned 
that  when  the  rope  whistled  past  his  ears  he  was 
to  watch  its  progress,  and  if  its  loop  encircled  a 
neck  or  a  leg  he  was  to  brace  himself  for  the 
inevitable  shock.  If  the  loop  failed  —  which  it 
rarely  did — he  discovered  that  he  was  to  note 
at  which  particular  steer  it  had  been  hurled,  and 
was  to  follow  that  steer's  progress,  no  matter 
where  it  went,  until  the  rope  went  true.  He  dis 
covered  that  it  was  imperative  for  him  to  stand 
without  moving  when  his  master  trailed  the  reins 
over  his  head;  he  early  learned  that  the  bit  was  a 
terrible  instrument  of  torture,  and  that  it  were  bet 
ter  to  answer  to  the  pressure  of  Calumet's  knee 
than  to  be  subjected  to  the  pain  it  caused  him. 

He  was  taught  these  things,  and  many  more, 
while  the  work  of  rebranding  the  Diamond  K 
cattle  went  forward. 

This  work  was  no  sinecure.  Dade  and  Mal 
colm,  and  even  Bob,  assisted  in  it  —  Malcolm  and 
Bob  attending  to  the  heating  of  the  branding  irons 
while  Calumet  roped  the  steers  and  dragged  them 
to  the  fire  where  Dade  pressed  the  white-hot  irons 
to  their  hips.  But  the  work  was  done  finally, 
and  the  cattle  turned  out  into  the  valley. 
[264] 


rA  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  TIMBER  GROVE 

On  the  night  that  saw  the  finish  of  the  branding, 
Calumet,  Dade,  and  Malcolm  retired  early.  Betty 
and  Bob  remained  in  the  kitchen  for  some  time, 
but  finally  they,  too,  went  to  bed. 

At  one  second  before  midnight  Calumet  was 
sleeping  soundly  —  as  soundly  as  it  is  possible  for 
a  man  to  sleep  who  has  been  working  out  of  doors 
and  is  physically  tired.  At  exactly  midnight  he 
was  wide  awake,  lying  on  his  back,  looking  with 
unblinking  eyes  at  the  ceiling,  all  his  senses  aroused 
and  alert,  his  nerves  and  muscles  at  a  tension. 

He  did  not  know  what  had  awakened  him, 
though  he  was  convinced  that  it  had  been  some 
thing  strange  and  unusual.  It  had  happened  to 
him  before;  several  times  when  cattle  had  stam 
peded;  once  when  a  Mexican  freighter  at  a  cow 
camp  had  rose  in  the  night  to  slip  his  knife  into  a 
puncher  with  whom  he  had  had  trouble  during 
the  day.  Incidentally,  except  for  Calumet,  the 
Mexican  would  have  made  his  escape.  It  had 
happened  to  him  again  when  a  band  of  horse 
thieves  had  attempted  to  run  off  some  stock;  it 
had  never  happened  unless  something  unusual  was 
going  on.  And  so  he  was  certain  that  something 
unusual  was  going  on  now,  and  he  lay  still,  looking 
around  him,  to  make  sure  that  what  was  happen- 
12653 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

ing  was  not  happening  in  his  room.  He  turned 
his  head  and  looked  at  Dade.  That  young  man 
was  breathing  heavily  and  regularly.  He  turned 
toward  the  door  of  the  room.  The  door  was 
closed.  A  flood  of  moonlight  entered  the  window ; 
objects  in  the  room  were  clearly  distinguishable, 
and  nothing  seemed  wrong  here.  But  something 
was  wrong  —  he  was  certain  of  that.  And  so  he 
got  carefully  out  of  bed  and  looked  out  of  the 
window,  listening,  peering  intently  in  all  directions 
within  the  limits  of  his  vision.  No  sound  greeted 
his  ears,  no  moving  object  caught  his  gaze.  But 
he  was  not  satisfied. 

He  put  on  his  clothes,  buckled  his  cartridge  belt 
around  his  waist,  took  his  six-shooter  from  be 
neath  his  pillow,  and  stuck  it  into  the  holster, 
and  in  his  stockinged  feet  opened  the  door  of 
the  room  and  stepped  out  into  the  hall.  He  was 
of  the  opinion  that  something  had  gone  wrong 
with  the  horses,  and  he  intended  to  make  the 
rounds  of  the  stable  and  corrals  to  satisfy  his  curi 
osity.  Strangely,  he  did  not  think  of  the  possi 
bility  of  Betty  meeting  Taggart  again,  until  he 
had  reached  the  bottom  of  the  stairs.  Even 
then  he  was  half-way  across  the  dining-room, 
stepping  carefully  and  noiselessly  for  fear  he 
[266] 


'  A  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  TIMBER  GROFE  ' 

might  awaken  someone,  when  he  glanced  back 
with  a  sudden  suspicion,  toward  the  door  of  the 
office.  As  in  that  other  time  there  shone  a 
streak  of  light  through  the  crevice  between  the 
bottom  of  the  door  and  the  threshold. 

He  stood  still,  his  muscles  contracting,  his  lips 
curling,  a  black,  jealous  anger  in  his  heart.  Tag- 
gart  was  there  again. 

But  he  would  not  escape  this  time.  He  would 
take  care  to  make  no  noise  which  would  scare 
him  away.  He  listened  at  the  door,  but  he  heard 
no  voices.  They  were  in  there,  though,  he  could 
distinguish  slight  movements.  He  left  the  door 
and  stole  softly  up  the  stairs  to  his  room,  getting 
his  boots  and  carrying  them  in  his  hand.  As 
before,  he  intended  putting  them  on  at  the  kitchen 
door.  But  Bob's  dog  would  not  betray  him  this 
time,  for  since  the  other  accident  he  had  contrived 
to  persuade  Bob  to  keep  the  dog  outside  at  night. 
Nor  would  there  occur  any  other  accident — he 
would  take  care  of  that.  And  so  it  took  him  a 
long  time  to  descend  the  stairs  and  make  his  way 
to  the  kitchen  door.  Once  outside,  he  drew  on 
his  boots  and  stole  silently  and  swiftly  to  the 
front  door  of  the  house. 

To  his  astonishment,  when  he  arrived  at  the 
[267] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

door,  there  was  no  light,  no  sound  to  indicate 
that  anybody  was  in  the  room.  He  tried  the 
door  —  it  was  barred.  He  stepped  to  the  win 
dow.  If  there  was  a  light  within  it  would  show 
through  the  cracks  and  holes  in  the  shade,  for 
the  latter  was  old  and  well  worn. 

But  no  light  appeared.  If  there  was  anyone 
inside  they  must  have  heard  him  in  spite  of  his 
carefulness,  and  had  put  out  the  light.  He  cursed. 
He  could  not  watch  both  the  back  and  the  front 
door,  but  he  could  watch  the  outside  of  the  house, 
could  go  a  little  distance  away  from  it  and  thus 
see  anybody  who  would  leave  it. 

He  walked  away  toward  the  timber  clump, 
looking  around  him.  As  his  gaze  swept  the  wood 
near  the  river  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  horse  and 
rider  as  they  passed  through  a  clearing  and  went 
slowly  away  from  him. 

They  had  tricked  him  again!  Probably  by 
this  time  Betty  was  in  her  room,  laughing  at 
him.  Taggart  was  laughing,  too,  no  doubt.  The 
thought  maddened  him.  He  cursed  bitterly  as  he 
ran  to  the  stable.  He  was  inside  in  a  flash,  sad 
dling  Blackleg,  jamming  a  bit  into  his  mouth.  He 
would  follow  Taggart  to  the  Arrow,  to  hell  — 
anywhere,  but  he  would  catch  him.  Blackleg 
[268] 


rA  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  TIMBER  GROVE 

could  do  it ;  he  would  make  him  do  it,  if  he  killed 
him  in  the  end. 

In  three  minutes  Blackleg  shot  out  of  the  stable 
door  —  a  flash  in  the  night.  The  swift  turn  that 
was  required  of  him  he  made  on  his  hind  legs, 
and  then,  with  a  plunge  and  a  snort  of  delight,  he 
was  away  over  the  level  toward  the  wood. 

Calumet  guided  Blackleg  toward  the  spot  where 
he  had  seen  the  rider,  certain  that  he  could  not 
have  gone  far  during  the  interval  that  had  elapsed, 
but  when  he  reached  the  spot  there  was  no  sign 
of  a  horse  and  rider  in  any  direction. 

For  an  instant  only  Calumet  halted  Blackleg, 
and  then  he  spurred  him  down  the  river  trail. 
One  mile,  two,  three,  he  rode  at  a  breakneck 
pace,  and  then  suddenly  he  was  out  of  the  timber 
and  facing  a  plain  that  stretched  into  an  intermi 
nable  distance.  The  trail  lay  straight  and  clear; 
there  was  no  sign  of  a  horse  and  rider  on  it. 
Taggart  had  not  come  in  this  direction,  though  in 
this  direction  lay  the  Arrow. 

He  wheeled  Blackleg  and,  with  glowering  eyes 
and  straightened  lips,  rode  him  back  the  way  he 
had  come,  halting  often  and  peering  into  shadows. 
By  the  time  he  arrived  at  the  spot  where  he  had 
first  seen  the  horse  and  rider  he  had  become  con- 
[269] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

vinced  that  Taggart  had  secreted  himself  until  he 
had  passed  him  and  had  then  ridden  over  the  back 
trail,  later  to  return  to  the  Arrow  by  a  circuitous 
route. 

Calumet  determined  to  cut  across  the  country 
and  intercept  him,  and  he  drove  the  spurs  into 
Blackleg  and  raced  him  through  the  wood.  His 
trail  took  him  into  a  section  which  led  to  the  slope 
which  the  horses  drawing  the  wagon  had  taken  on 
the  night  of  the  ambush.  He  was  tearing  through 
this  when  he  broke  through  the  edge  of  a  clearing 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  ranchhouse. 
At  about  the  center  of  the  clearing  Blackleg  came 
to  a  jarring,  dizzying  stop,  rearing  high  on  his 
hind  legs.  When  he  came  down  he  whinnied  and 
backed,  and,  peering  over  his  shoulder  to  see 
what  had  frightened  him,  Calumet  saw  the  body 
of  a  man  lying  at  the  edge  of  a  mesquite  clump. 

With  his  six-shooter  in  hand,  Calumet  dis 
mounted  and  walked  to  the  man.  The  latter  was 
prone  in  the  dust,  on  his  face,  and  as  Calumet 
leaned  over  him  the  better  to  peer  into  his  face  — 
for  he  thought  the  man  might  be  Taggart  —  he 
heard  a  groan  escape  his  lips.  Sheathing  his 
weapon,  Calumet  turned  the  man  over  on  his 
back.  Another  groan  escaped  him;  his  eyes 
[270] 


A  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  TIMBER  GROFE 

opened,  though  they  closed  again  immediately. 
It  was  not  Taggart. 

"  Got  me,"  he  said.     He  groaned  again. 

"  Who  got  you  ?  "  Calumet  bent  over  to  catch 
the  reply.  None  came;  the  man  had  lost  con 
sciousness. 

Calumet  stood  up  and  looked  around.  He 
could  see  nothing  of  the  rider  for  whom  he  was 
searching.  He  could  not  leave  this  wounded  man 
to  pursue  his  search  for  Taggart;  there  might  be 
something  he  could  do  for  the  man. 

But  he  left  the  man's  side  for  an  instant  while 
he  looked  around  him.  Some  dense  undergrowth 
rose  on  his  right,  black  shadows  surrounding  it, 
and  he  walked  along  its  edge,  his  forty-five  in 
hand,  trying  to  peer  into  it.  He  saw  nothing, 
heard  nothing.  Then,  catching  another  groan 
from  the  man,  he  returned  to  him.  The  man's 
eyes  were  open;  they  gleamed  brightly  and  wildly. 

"  Got  me,"  he  said  as  he  saw  Calumet. 

"Who  got  you?"  repeated  Calumet. 

"Telza." 

"Telza?"  Calumet  bent  over  him  again;  the 
name  sounded  foreign.  "Talk  sense,"  he  said 
shortly;  "who's  Telza?" 

"A  Toltec  Indian,"  said  the  man.  "He's  been 
[271] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

hangin'  around  here  —  for  a  month.  Around  the 
Arrow,  too.  Mebbe  two  months.  Nobody  knows. 
He's  like  a  shadow.  Now  you  see  him  an'  now 
you  don't,"  he  added  with  a  grim  attempt  at  a 
joke.  Taggart's  had  me  trailin'  him,  lookin'  for 
a  diagram  he's  got." 

"  Diagram  of  what?  "  demanded  Calumet.  His 
interest  was  intense.  A  Toltec!  Telza  was  of 
the  race  from  whom  his  father  and  Taggart  had 
stolen  the  idol.  He  leaned  closer  to  the  man. 

"Are  Telza  an'  Taggart  friends?"  he  asked. 

"  Friends ! "  The  man's  weak  laugh  was  full 
of  scorn.  "Taggart's  stringin'  him.  Telza's 
lookin'  for  an  idol  —  all  gold  an'  diamonds,  an' 
such.  Worth  thousands.  Taggart  set  Telza  on 
Betty  Clayton."  The  man  choked;  his  breath 
came  thickly;  red  stained  his  lips.  "Hell!"  he 
said,  "what  you  chinnin'  me  for?  Get  that 
damned  toad-sticker  out  of  me,  can't  you.  It's 
in  my  side,  near  the  back  —  I  can't  reach  it." 

Calumet  felt  where  the  man  indicated,  and  his 
hand  struck  the  handle  of  a  knife.  It  had  a  large, 
queerly-shaped  handle  and  a  long,  thin  blade  like 
a  stiletto.  It  had  been  driven  into  the  man's  left 
side  just  under  the  fleshy  part  of  the  shoulder,  and 
it  was  plain  that  its  point  had  found  a  vital  spot — 
[272] 


'A  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  TIMBER  GROVE 

probably  through  the  lung  and  near  the  heart,  for 
the  man  was  limp  and  helpless,  his  breath  coughed 
in  his  throat,  and  it  was  certain  that  he  had  not 
many  minutes  to  live.  Calumet  carefully  with 
drew  the  weapon,  and  the  man  settled  back  with  a 
sigh  of  relief. 

"You're  Marston,  ain't  you?"  he  said,  slowly 
and  painfully,  gasping  with  every  breath.  "I've 
heard  the  Taggart's  talk  about  you.  Old  Tom's 
developed  a  yellow  streak  in  his  old  age  an'  he's 
leavin'  all  his  dirty  work  to  Neal.  Neal's  got  a 
yellow  streak,  too,  for  that  matter,  but  he's  young 
an'  ain't  got  no  sense.  I  reckon  I'm  goin'  some 
where  now,  an'  so  I  can  say  what  I  like.  Tag- 
gart  ain't  no  friend  of  mine  —  neither  of  them. 
They've  played  me  dirt  —  more  than  once.  My 
name's  Al  Sharp.  You  know  that  Tom  Taggart 
was  as  deep  in  that  idol  business  as  your  dad  was. 
He  told  me.  But  he's  got  Telza  soft-soaped  into 
thinkin'  that  Betty  Clayton's  folks  snaked  it  from 
Telza's  people.  Taggart's  got  evidence  that  your 
dad  planted  the  idol  around  here  somewheres  — 
seems  to  know  that  your  dad  drawed  a  diagram 
of  the  place  an'  left  it  with  Betty.  He  set  Telza 
to  huntin'  for  it.  Telza  got  it  tonight  —  it  was 
hid  somewhere.  I  was  with  him  —  waitin'  for 

[273] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

him.  If  he  got  the  diagram  I  was  to  knife  him 
and  take  it  away  from  him.  Taggart  an'  his  dad 
is  somewhere  around  here  —  I  was  to  meet  them 
down  the  river  a  piece.  Telza  double-crossed  me ; 
tried  to  sneak  over  here  an'  hunt  the  idol  himself. 
I  found  him  —  he  had  the  diagram.  I  tried  to 
get  it  from  him  —  he  stuck  his  toad-sticker  in  me, 
.  .  .  the  little  copper-skinned  devil.  He — "  He 
hesitated  and  choked,  raising  himself  as  though  to 
get  a  long  breath.  But  a  dark  flood  again  stained 
his  lips,  he  strangled  and  stretched  out  limply. 

Calumet  turned  him  over  on  his  back  and 
covered  his  face  with  a  handkerchief.  Then  he 
stood  up,  looking  around  at  the  edge  of  the  clear 
ing.  Ten  feet  in  front  of  him,  curled  around  the 
edge  of  a  bit  of  sagebrush,  was  a  dirty  white 
object.  He  walked  over,  kicked  the  sagebrush 
violently,  that  a  concealed  rattler  might  not  spring 
on  him,  and  took  up  the  object.  It  was  a  piece  of 
paper  about  six  inches  square,  and  in  the  dim 
moonlight  Calumet  could  see  that  it  contained 
writing  of  some  sort  and  a  crude  sketch.  He 
looked  closer  at  it,  saw  a  spot  marked  "  Idol 
is  here,"  and  then  folded  it  quickly  and  placed 
it,  crumpled  into  a  ball,  into  a  pocket  of  his 
trousers. 

[274] 


A  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  TIMBER  GROVE 

He  was  now  certain  that  Taggart  had  been 
merely  deceiving  Betty;  there  had  been  no  other 
significance  to  his  visits.  The  visits  were  merely 
part  of  a  plan  to  get  possession  of  the  idol.  While 
he  had  been  talking  to  Betty  in  the  office  tonight 
Telza  had  stolen  the  diagram. 

There  was  more  than  triumph  in  Calumet's 
eyes  as  he  turned  his  pony  —  there  was  joy  and 
savage  exultation.  The  idol  was  his;  he  would 
get  the  money,  too.  After  that  he  would  drive 
Betty  and  all  of  them  — 

But  would  he?  A  curious  indecision  mingled 
with  his  other  emotions  at  this  thought.  His 
face  grew  serious.  Lately  he  was  developing  a 
vacillating  will;  whenever  he  meditated  any 
action  with  regard  to  Betty  he  had  an  inclination 
to  defer  it.  He  postponed  a  decision  now;  he 
would  think  it  over  again.  Before  he  made  up 
his  mind  on  that  question  he  wanted  to  enjoy  her 
discomfiture  and  confusion  over  the  loss  of  the 
diagram. 

He  had  lost  all  thought  of  pursuing  Taggart. 
Sharp  had  said  that  Taggart  was  somewhere  in 
the  vicinity,  but  it  was  just  possible  that  Sharp 
had  been  so  deeply  engaged  with  Telza  about  the 
time  Taggart  had  made  his  escape  that  he  had  not 
[275] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

seen  him.    There  was  time  for  him  to  settle  with 
Taggart 

He  took  up  the  bridle  rein,  wheeled,  placed  one 
foot  into  the  stirrup,  intending  to  mount,  when  he 
became  aware  of  a  shadow  looming  near  him. 
He  pulled  the  foot  out  of  the  stirrup,  dropped 
the  reins  with  the  same  movement,  and  turned  in  a 
flash. 

Neal  Taggart,  sitting  on  a  horse  at  the  edge 
of  the  clearing,  not  over  twenty  feet  from  him, 
was  looking  at  him  from  behind  the  muzzle  of  a 
six-shooter.  At  a  trifling  distance  from  Taggart 
was  another  man,  also  bestride  a  horse.  A  rifle 
was  at  this  man's  shoulder;  his  cheek  was  nuz 
zling  its  stock,  and  Calumet  saw  that  the  weapon 
was  aimed  at  his  chest. 

He  rapidly  noted  the  positions  of  the  two, 
estimated  the  distance,  decided  that  the  risk  of 
resistance  was  too  great,  and  slowly  raised  his 
hands  above  his  head. 

"Surprise  party,  eh?"  he  said.  "Well,"  he 
added  in  a  self-accusing  voice,  "  I  reckon  I  was 
idreamin'  some." 

Neal  Taggart  dismounted,  moving  quickly  aside 
iso  that  the  man  with  the  rifle  had  an  unobstructed 
view  of  Calumet.    He  went  close  to  the  latter. 
[276] 


A  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  TIMBER  GROVE 

"So  it's  you,  eh?"  he  said.  "We  saw  you 
tearin'  up  an'  down  the  river  trail,  when  we  was 
back  in  the  timber  a  piece.  Racin'  your  fool  head 
off.  Nothin'  in  sight.  Saw  you  come  in  here  ten 
minutes  ago.  What  you  doin'  here?" 

"Exercisin',"  said  Calumet;  "takin*  my  mid 
night  constitutional."  He  looked  at  the  man  with 
the  rifle. 

The  latter  was  hatless.  Long  gray  hair,  un 
kempt,  touched  his  shoulders;  a  white  beard, 
scraggly,  dirty,  hid  all  of  his  face  except  the 
beak-like,  awry  nose.  Beady,  viciously  glowing 
eyes  gleamed  out  of  the  grotesque  mask. 

"Who's  your  friend?"  questioned  Calumet, 
with  a  derisive  grin.  "If  I  was  a  sheep-man 
now,  I'd  try  an'  find  time,  next  shearin' — " 

"  My  father,"  growled  Neal. 

"Excuse  me,"  said  Calumet  with  a  short  laugh, 
though  his  eyes  shone  with  a  sudden  hardness; 
"I  thought  it  was  a — " 

"You're  Calumet  Marston,  I  reckon,"  inter 
rupted  the  bearded  man.  "  You're  an  impertinent 
pup,  like  your  father  was.  Get  his  guns!"  he 
commanded  gruffly. 

Neal  hesitated  and  then  took  a  step  toward 
Calumet.  The  latter  crouched,  his  eyes  narrow- 
[  277  ] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

ing  to  glittering  pin  points.  In  his  attitude  was  a 
threat,  a  menace,  of  volcanic,  destroying  action. 
Neal  stopped  a  step  off,  uncertain. 

Calumet's  lips  sneered.  "Take  my  guns,  eh?" 
he  said.  "  Reach  out  an'  grab  them.  But  say 
your  prayers  before  you  do — you  an'  that  suff erin' 
monolith  with  the  underbrush  scattered  all  over 
his  mug.  Come  an'  take  them ! "  He  jeered  as 
he  saw  Neal  Taggart's  face  whiten.  "  Hell !  "  he 
added  as  he  saw  the  elder  Taggart  make  a  nega 
tive  motion  toward  his  son,  "you  ain't  got  no 
clear  thoughts  just  at  this  minute,  eh?" 

"We  ain't  aimin'  to  force  trouble,"  growled 
the  older  man.  "  We're  just  curious,  that's  what. 
Also,  there's  a  chance  that  we  can  settle  this  thing 
peaceable.  We  want  to  palaver.  If  you'll  give 
your  word  that  there  won't  be  no  gun-play  until 
after  the  peace  meetin'  is  over,  you  can  take  your 
hands  down." 

"No  shootin'  goes  right  now,"  agreed  Calu 
met.  "But  after  this  peace  meetin' — " 

"We  ought  to  come  to  terms,"  said  Taggart, 
placing  his  rifle  in  the  saddle  holster  as  Calumet's 
hands  came  down.  "There  hadn't  ought  to  be 
any  bad  blood  between  us.  Me  an'  your  dad  was 
a  heap  friendly  until  we  had  a  fallin'  out  over  that 
[278] 


A  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  TIMBER  GROVE 

she-devil  which  he  lived  with  —  Ezela."  There 
was  an  insincere  grin  on  his  face. 

It  was  plain  to  Calumet  that  the  elder  Taggart 
had  some  ulterior  motive  in  suggesting  a  peace 
conference.  He  noted  that  while  Taggart  talked 
his  eyes  kept  roving  around  the  clearing  as  though 
in  search  of  something.  That  something,  Calu 
met  divined,  was  Sharp  and  Telza.  He  suspected 
that  Calumet  had  seen  Telza  and  Sharp,  or  one 
of  them,  enter  the  clearing,  and  had  followed 
them.  Neal  had  said  that  they  had  seen  Calumet 
when  he  had  been  racing  up  and  down  the  river 
trail;  they  had  suspected  he  had  been  after  Sharp 
or  Tefea,  and  had  followed  him.  No  doubt  they 
were  afflicted  with  a  great  curiosity.  They  were 
playing  for  time  in  order  to  discover  his  errand. 

"  I  reckon  we'll  get  along  without  mushin'," 
suggested  Calumet.  "  What  terms  are  you  talkin' 
about?" 

Taggart  climbed  down  from  his  pony  and  stood 
beside  it. 

"  Half-an'-half  on  the  idol,"  he  said.  "  That's 
square,  ain't  it?  "  He  looked  at  Calumet  with  the 
beginning  of  a  bland  smile,  which  instantly  faded 
and  turned  into  a  grimace  of  fear  as  he  found 
himself  looking  into  the  gaping  muzzles  of  Calu- 

[279] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

met's  pistols,  which  had  appeared  with  magic  ease 
and  quickness. 

"  I'm  runnin'  a  little  surprise  party  of  my  own," 
declared  Calumet.  "  Was  you  thinkin'  I  was  fool 
enough  to  go  to  gassin'  with  you,  trustin'  that 
you  wouldn't  take  your  chance  to  perforate  me? 
You've  got  another  guess  comin'." 

The  disappointed  gleam  in  Taggart's  eyes 
showed  that  such  had  been  his  intention.  "There 
wasn't  to  be  no  shootin'  until  after  we'd  held  our 
peace  meetin',"  he  complained. 

"  Correct,"  said  Calumet.  "  But  the  peace 
meetin'  is  now  over.  Get  your  sky-hooks  clawin' 
at  the  clouds ! "  he  warned  coldly  as  Neal  hesi 
tated.  When  both  had  raised  their  hands  above 
their  heads  he  deftly  plucked  their  weapons  from 
their  holsters.  Then,  alert  and  watchful,  he  drew 
the  elder  Taggart's  rifle  from  its  sling  on  the 
saddle  and  threw  it  a  dozen  feet  away. 

"Now  just  step  over  to  that  bunch  of  mes- 
quite,"  he  ordered;  "there's  somethin'  there  that 
I  want  to  show  you." 

In  obedience  to  his  command  they  went  for 
ward.  Both  came  to  a  halt  when  around  the 
edge  of  the  mesquite  clump  they  saw  the  dead 
body  of  Sharp,  with  the  handkerchief  over  his 
[280] 


face.  Neither  recognized  the  man  until  Calumet 
drew  the  handkerchief  away,  and  then  both  started 
back. 

"  Know  him,  eh?  "  said  Calumet,  watching  them 
narrowly.  "Well,  he  done  his  duty  —  done  what 
you  wanted  him  to  do.  But  your  man,  Telza, 
double-crossed  him  —  knifed  him."  He  took  up 
the  rapier-like  blade  that  he  had  drawn  from 
Sharp's  side  and  held  it  before  their  eyes.  Again 
they  started,  and  Calumet  laughed. 

"  Know  the  knife,  too  !  "  he  jeered.  "An'  after 
what  you've  done  you've  got  the  nerve  to  ask  me 
to  divvy  with  you." 

The  elder  Taggart  was  the  first  to  recover  his 
composure. 

"  Telza  ?  "  he  said.  "  Why,  I  reckon  you've  got 
me;  there  ain't  no  one  of  that  name — " 

But  Calumet  was  close  to  him,  his  eyes  blazing. 
"Shut  your  dirty  mouth,  or  I'll  tear  you  apart! " 
he  threatened.  "You're  a  liar,  an'  you  know  it. 
Sharp  told  me  about  you  settin'  the  Toltec  on 
Betty.  I  know  the  rest.  I  know  you  tried  to  make 
a  monkey  out  of  my  dad,  you  damned  old  ossified 
scarecrow !  If  you  open  your  trap  again,  I'll  just 
naturally  pulverize  you!  I  reckon  that's  all  I've 
got  to  say  to  you." 

[281] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

He  walked  over  to  Neal,  and  the  latter  shrank 
from  the  bitter  malignance  of  his  gaze. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  why  I  ain't  lettin'  daylight 
through  you?"  he  said  as  he  shoved  the  muzzle 
of  his  six-shooter  deep  into  Neal's  stomach,  hold 
ing  it  there  with  savage  steadiness  as  he  leaned 
forward  and  looked  into  the  other's  eyes.  "  It's 
because  I  ain't  a  sneak  an'  a  murderer.  I  ain't 
ambushin'  nobody.  I've  done  some  killin'  in  my 
time,  but  I  ain't  never  plugged  no  man  who  didn't 
have  the  same  chance  I  had.  I'm  givin'  you  a 
chance." 

He  drew  out  one  of  the  weapons  he  had  taken 
from  the  two  men,  holding  it  by  the  muzzle  and 
thrusting  it  under  Neal's  nose.  The  terrible,  sup 
pressed  rage  in  his  eyes  caused  a  shiver  to  run 
over  Neal,  his  face  turned  a  dull  white,  his  eyes 
stared  fearfully.  He  made  no  move  to  grasp  the 
weapon. 

"  I  ain't  fightin',"  he  said  with  trembling  lips.     ^ 

Calumet  reversed  the  gun  and  stepped  back>( 
laughing  harshly,  without  mirth. 

"  Of  course  you  ain't  fightin',"  he  said.   "  That's 

the  reason  it's  goin'  to  be  hard  for  me  to  kill  you. 

I'd  feel  like  a  cur  if  I  was  to  perforate  you  now  — 

you  or  your  scarecrow  dad.     But  I'm  tellin'  you 

[282] 


'A  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  TIMBER  GROVE 

this :  You've  sneaked  around  the  Lazy  Y  for  the 
last  time.  I'm  layin'  for  you  after  this,  an'  if  I 
ketch  you  maverickin'  around  here  again  I'll  per 
forate  you  so  plenty  that  it'll  make  you  dizzy. 
That's  all.  Get  out  of  here  before  I  change  my 
mind!" 

Shrinking  from  his  awe-inspiring  wrath,  they 
retreated  from  him,  watching  him  fearfully  as 
they  backed  toward  their  horses.  They  had  al 
most  reached  them  when  Calumet's  voice  brought 
them  to  a  halt. 

His  lips  were  wreathed  in  a  cold  grin,  his  eyes 
alight  with  a  satanic  humor.  But  the  rage  had 
gone  from  his  voice ;  it  was  mocking,  derisive. 

"Coin' to  ride? "he  said.  "Oh,  don't!  Them 
horses  look  dead  tired.  Leave  them  here;  they 
need  a  rest.  Besides,  a  man  can't  do  any  thinkin' 
to  amount  to  anything  when  he's  forkin'  a  horse, 
an'  I  reckon  you  two  coyotes  will  be  doin'  a  heap 
of  thinkin'  on  your  way  back  to  the  Arrow." 

"Good  Lord!"  said  the  elder  Taggart;  "you 
don't  mean  that?  Why,  it's  fifteen  miles  to  the 
Arrow!" 

"Shucks,"  said  Calumet;  "so  it  is!  An'  it's 
after  midnight,  too.  But  you  wouldn't  want  them 
poor,  respectable  critters  to  be  gallivantin'  around 
[283] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

at  this  time  of  the  night,  when  they  ought  to  be 
in  bed  dreamin'  of  the  horse-heaven  which  they're 
goin'  to  one  of  these  days  when  the  Taggarts 
don't  own  them  any  more.  You  can  send  a  man 
over  after  them  when  you  get  back,  an'  if  they 
want  to  go  home,  why,  I'll  let  them."  His  voice 
changed  again;  it  rang  with  a  menacing  command. 

"Walkin'  is  good!"  he  said;  "get  goin'l 
You've  got  three  minutes  to  get  to  that  bend  in 
the  trail  over  by  the  crick.  It's  about  half  a  mile. 
I'm  turnin'  my  back.  If  I  see  you  when  I  turn 
around  I'm  workin'  that  rifle  there." 

There  was  a  silence  which  might  have  lasted  a 
second.  Only  this  small  space  of  time  was  re 
quired  by  the  Taggarts  to  convince  them  that 
Calumet  was  in  deadly  earnest.  Then,  with  Neal 
leading,  they  began  to  run  toward  the  bend  in  the 
trail. 

Shortly  Calumet  turned.  The  Taggarts  had 
almost  reached  the  tend,  and  while  he  watched 
they  vanished  behind  it. 

Calumet  picked  up  the  rifle  which  he  had  taken 
from  the  elder  Taggart,  mounted  his  horse,  and 
drove  the  Taggart  animals  into  the  corral.  He 
decided  that  he  would  keep  them  there  for  an 
hour  or  so,  to  give  the  Taggarts  time  to  get  well 
[284] 


'A  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  TIMBER  GROFE 

on  their  way  toward  the  Arrow.  Had  he  turned 
them  loose  immediately  they  no  doubt  would  have 
overtaken  their  masters  before  the  latter  had  gone 
very  far. 

Remounting,  Calumet  rode  to  the  bend  in  the 
trail.  He  carried  Taggart's  rifle.  About  a  mile 
out  on  the  plain  that  stretched  away  toward  the 
Arrow  he  saw  the  two  men.  They  seemed  to  be 
walking  rapidly. 

Calumet  returned  to  the  ranchhouse,  got  a  pick 
and  shovel,  and  went  back  to  the  timber  clump. 
An  hour  later  he  was  again  at  the  corral.  He  led 
the  Taggart  horses  out,  took  them  to  the  bend 
in  the  trail,  and  turned  them  loose,  for  he  antici 
pated  that  the  Taggarts  would  make  a  complaint 
to  the  sheriff  about  them,  and  if  they  were  found 
in  the  Lazy  Y  corral  trouble  would  be  sure  to 
result. 

He  watched  them  until  they  were  well  on  their 
way  toward  the  Arrow,  and  then  he  returned  to 
the  ranchhouse  and  went  to  bed.  No  one  had 
heard  him,  he  told  himself  with  a  grin  as  he 
stretched  out  on  the  bed  beside  Dade  to  s^ep  the 
hour  that  would  elapse  before  daylight. 


[285] 


CHAPTER  XX 

BETTY  TALKS   FRANKLY 

BETTY,  however,  had  not  been  asleep.  After 
seeking  her  room  she  had  heard  the  rapid 
beat  of  hoofs,  and,  looking  out  of  her  window, 
she  had  seen  Calumet  when  he  had  raced  from 
the  ranchhouse  in  search  of  Taggart.  Still  watch 
ing  at  the  window,  she  had  seen  him  returning; 
saw  him  disappear  into  the  timber  clump. 

Some  time  later  she  had  observed  the  Taggarts 
emerge  and  run  as  though  their  lives  depended  on 
haste.  She  watched  Calumet  as  he  rode  by  her 
window  to  take  the  two  horses  to  the  corral,  stared 
at  him  with  fascinated  eyes,  holding  her  breath 
with  horror  as  he  walked  from  the  ranchhouse  to 
>the  timber  clump  with  the  pick  and  shovel  on  his 
shoulder;  stood  at  the  window  with  a  great  fear 
gripping  her  until  he  came  back,  still  carrying  the 
pick  and  shovel;  watched  him  as  he  released  the 
Taggart  horses,  drove  them  to  the  bend  in  the 
trail,  and  returned  to  the  house.  His  movements 
had  been  stealthy,  but  she  heard  him  when  he  came 
[286] 


BETTY  TALKS  FRANKLY 


into  the  house  and  mounted  the  stairs.  Then  she 
heard  him  no  more. 

But  a  great  dread  was  upon  her.  What  meant 
that  journey  to  the  timber  clump  with  the  pick  and 
shovel,  and  what  had  been  done  there  during 
the  hour  that  he  had  remained  there?  The  idol, 
she  knew,  was  buried  in  a  clearing  in  the  timber 
clump;  she  did  not  know  just  where,  for  she  had 
looked  at  the  diagram  only  once,  when  Calumet's 
father  had  shown  it  to  her.  She  had  a  supersti 
tious  dread  of  the  idol  and  would  not,  under  any 
circumstances,  have  examined  the  diagram  again. 
But  she  did  not  connect  Calumet's  visit  to  the 
timber  clump  with  the  diagram,  for  the  latter  was 
concealed  in  a  safe  place,  under  a  board  in  the 
closet  that  led  off  her  room ;  she  had  looked  at  it 
only  once  since  Calumet  had  returned,  and  that 
only  hastily,  to  make  sure  that  it  was  still  there, 
and  she  was  certain  that  Calumet  had  no  knowl 
edge  of  its  whereabouts. 

Could  Calumet  have —  She  pressed  her  hands 
tightly  over  her  breast  at  this  thought.  She  did 
not  want  to  think  that!  But  he  had  a  violent 
temper,  and  there  were  those  men  in  Lazette, 
Denver  and  the  other  man,  whom  he  had —  She 
shuddered.  That  must  be  the  explanation  for  his 
[287] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

strange  actions.  But  still  she  had  heard  no  shot, 
and  there  was  a  chance  that  the  diagram  — 

Tremblingly  she  made  her  way  to  the  closet  and 
removed  the  loose  board.  A  tin  box  met  her 
eyes,  the  box  in  which  she  had  placed  the  diagram, 
and  she  lifted  the  box  out,  her  fingers  shaking  as 
she  fumbled  at  the  fastening  and  raised  the  lid. 

The  box  was  empty. 

For  a  long  time  she  sat  there  looking  at  it, 
anger  and  resentment  fighting  within  her  for  the 
mastery. 

Of  course,  the  idol  really  belonged  to  Calumet; 
she  would  have  given  it  to  him  in  time,  but  that 
thought  did  not  lessen  her  resentment  against  him. 
Somehow,  though,  she  was  conscious  of  a  feeling 
of  gratefulness  that  his  visit  to  the  timber  clump 
had  no  significance  beyond  the  recovery  of  the 
idol,  and,  despite  his  offense  against  her  privacy, 
she  began  after  a  while  to  view  the  matter  with 
greater  calm.  And  though  she  did  not  close  her 
eyes  during  the  remainder  of  the  night,  lying  on 
her  back  in  bed  and  wondering  how  he  had  dis 
covered  the  hiding  place  of  the  diagram,  she  came 
downstairs  shortly  after  daylight  and  proceeded 
calmly  about  her  duties. 

She  managed,  though,  to  be  near  the  kitchen 
[288] 


BETTY  TALKS  FRANKLY 


door  when  Calumet  came  down,  and,  without 
appearing  to  do  so,  she  watched  his  face  closely 
as  he  prepared  himself  for  breakfast.  But 
without  result.  If  he  had  gained  possession 
of  the  idol  his  face  did  not  betray  him.  But 
once  during  the  meal  she  looked  up  unexpectedly, 
to  see  him  looking  at  her  with  amused,  specu 
lative  eyes.  Then  she  knew  he  was  gloating 
over  her. 

With  an  appearance  of  grave  concern,  and  not 
a  little  well-simulated  excitement,  she  approached 
him  during  the  morning  where  he  was  working  at 
the  corral  fence.  She  was  determined  to  discover 
the  truth. 

"  I  have  some  bad  news  for  you,"  she  said. 

"  Shucks,"  he  returned,  with  a  grin  that  almost 
disarmed  her;  " you  don't  say !" 

"Yes,"  she  continued.  "When  your  father 
left  his  other  papers  with  me  he  also  left  a  dia 
gram  of  a  place  in  the  timber  clump  where  the 
idol  is  hidden.  Some  time  yesterday  the  diagram 
was  stolen." 

"You  don't  say?"  he  said. 

His   voice   had  not  been   convincing   enough; 
there  had  been  a  note  of  mockery  in  it,  and  she 
knew  he  was  guilty  of  the  theft. 
[289] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  7 

She  looked  at  him  fairly.  "  You  took  it,"  she 
accused. 

"  I  didn't  take  it,"  he  denied,  returning  her 
gaze.  "  But  I've  got  it.  What  are  you  goin'  to 
•do  about  it?" 

"Nothing,"  she  replied.  "But  do  you  think 
that  was  a  gentleman's  action  —  to  enter  my  room, 
to  search  it  —  even  for  something  that  belonged  to 
you?" 

"No  gentleman  took  it,"  he  grinned;  "there 
fore  it  couldn't  have  been  me.  I  told  you  I  had 
it;  I  didn't  take  it." 

"Who  did,  then?" 

"  Do  you  know  Telza  ?  " 

"Telza?" 

"Toltec,"  he  said;  "a  Toltec  from  Yucatan. 
He  got  it  yesterday  —  last  night  —  while  you  was 
gassin'  to  your  friend,  Neal  Taggart." 

She  started,  recollection  filling  her  eyes.  "A 
Toltec!"  she  said  in  an  awed  voice.  "I  have 
heard  that  they  are  fanatics  where  their  religion 
is  concerned;  your  father  told  me  that  his  —  that 
woman  —  Ezela  —  told  him.  She  said  that  the 
tribe  would  never  give  up  the  search  for  the  idol. 
He  laughed  at  her;  he  laughed  at  me  when  he  told 
me  about  it."  She  drew  a  deep  breath.  "And  so 
[290] 


one  of  them  has  come,"  she  said.  "  I  thought  I 
heard  a  noise  upstairs  last  night,"  she  added. 
"  It  must  have  been  then." 

"An',"  he  jeered,  "you  was  so  busy  about  that 
time  that  you  couldn't  go  to  investigate.  That's 
how  you  guarded  it — how  you  filled  your  trust." 

She  gazed  fixedly  at  him  and  his  gaze  dropped. 
"You  are  determined  to  continue  your  insults," 
she  said  coldly. 

He  reddened.  "I  reckon  you  deserve  them," 
he  said  sneeringly.  "Taggart's  makin'  a  fool  of 
you.  I  heard  him  palaverin'  to  you  last  night. 
I  followed  him,  but  lost  him.  Then  I  got  into 
the  clearin'  in  the  timber.  I  run  into  a  man  named 
Al  Sharp,  who'd  been  knifed  by  the  Toltec.  Him 
an'  the  Toltec  had  been  detailed  by  Taggart  to 
get  the  diagram.  Sharp  said  Taggart  knowed 
my  dad  had  drawed  one.  Telza  got  it  last  night 
while  you  was  talkin'  to  Taggart.  Frame-up. 
Sharp  tried  to  take  it  away  from  Telza,  an'  Telza 
knifed  him.  Sharp's  dead.  I  buried  him  last 
night.  Telza  dropped  the  diagram.  I  got  it. 
I  reckon  Telza  has  sloped.  Then  I  met  Taggart 
an'  his  dad.  They  reckoned  they  didn't  like  my 
company  overmuch  an'  they  walked  home.  Didn't 
even  wait  to  take  their  horses." 
[291] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

She  drew  a  breath  which  sounded  strangely 
like  relief. 

"Well,"  she  said;  "it  was  fortunate  that  you 
happened  to  be  there  to  get  the  idol." 

"Yes,"  he  drawled,  with  a  suspicious  grin;  "I 
reckon  you  feel  a  whole  lot  like  congratulatin' 
me." 

"  I  do,"  she  said.  "  Of  course  you  were  not  to 
have  the  idol  just  yet,  but  it  is  better  for  you  to 
have  it  before  the  time  than  that  the  Taggarts 
should  get  hold  of  it." 

"Do  you  know  where  the  idol  is  hid?"  he 
asked. 

She  told  him  no,  that  she  had  never  consulted 
the  diagram. 

"  I  reckon,"  he  said,  looking  into  her  steady 
eyes,  "  that  you're  tellin'  the  truth.  In  that  case 
it  will  be  safe  where  it  is,  for  a  while.  I'll  be 
lookin'  it  up  when  I  get  hold  of  the  money." 

Her  chin  raised  triumphantly.  "You  will  not 
get  that  so  easily,"  she  said.  "  But,"  she  added, 
interestedly,  "now  that  you  know  where  the 
idol  is,  why  don't  you  get  it  and  convert  it  into 
cash?" 

He  reddened  and  eyed  her  with  a  decidedly 
crestfallen    air.      "  I    ain't    so    much    stuck    on 
[292] 


BETTY  TALKS  FRANKLY 


monkeyin'  with  them  religious  things,"  he  ad 
mitted. 

Again  a  doubt  arose  in  his  mind  concerning 
her  relations  with  Neal  Taggart  The  fact  that 
she  had  not  divulged  the  hiding  place  of  the  idol 
to  him  was  proof  that  if  he  had  been  trying  to 
deceive  her  he  had  not  succeeded.  This  thought 
filled  him  with  a  sudden  elation. 

"  Lately,"  he  said,  "  it  begins  to  look  as  though 
you  was  gettin'  some  sense.  You're  gettin'  reason 
able.  I  reckon  you'll  be  a  bang-up  girl,  give  you 
time." 

Her  lips  curled,  but  there  was  a  flash  of  some 
thing  in  her  eyes  that  he  could  not  analyze.  But 
he  was  sure  that  it  wasn't  anger  or  disapproval. 
Neither  was  it  scorn.  It  seemed  to  him  that  it 
might  have  been  mockery,  mingled  with  satisfac 
tion.  Certainly  there  was  mockery  in  her  voice 
when  she  answered  him. 

"  Indeed !  "  she  said.  "  I  presume  I  am  to  take 
that  as  a  compliment?  " 

"  But  you  will  be  a  fool  if  you  cotton  up  to 
Neal  Taggart,"  he  continued,  paying  no  attention 
to  her  question.  "  I  know  men.  Taggart's  a  no 
good  fourflusher,  an'  no  woman  can  be  anything 
if  she  takes  up  with  him." 

[293] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  dazzling  smile.  In 
the  smile  were  those  qualities  that  he  had  noticed 
during  his  other  conversations  with  her  when  he 
had  accused  her  of  meeting  Taggart  secretly  — 
mirth,  tempered  with  doubt.  Also,  just  now  there 
was  enjoyment. 

"  I  feel  flattered  to  think  that  you  are  taking 
that  much  interest  in  me,"  she  said.  "  But  when 
I  am  in  need  of  someone  to  lay  down  rules  of 
conduct  for  me  I  shall  let  you  know.  At  present 
I  feel  quite  competent  to  take  care  of  myself. 
But  if  you  are  very  much  worried,  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  that  I  have  not  '  cottoned  up '  to  Neal 
Taggart." 

"What  you  meetin'  him  for,  then?"  he  asked 
suspiciously. 

"I  have  not  met  Neal  Taggart  since  the  day 
you  made  him  apologize  to  me,"  she  said  slowly. 

"Who  are  you  meetin',  then?"  he  demanded. 

She  looked  straight  at  him.  "  I  cannot  answert 
that,"  she  said. 

His  lips  curled  with  disbelief,  and  her  cheeks 
flushed  a  little. 

"Can't  you  trust  anybody?"  she  said. 

"Why,"  she  continued  as  he  kept  silent,  " don't 
you  think  that  if  I  had  intended,  as  you  said  once 
[294] 


BETTY  TALKS  FRANKLY 


before,  to  cheat  you,  to  take  anything  that  belongs 
to  you,  that  I  could  have  done  so  long  ago?  I 
had  the  diagram ;  I  could  have  kept  the  idol,  the 
money,  the  ranch.  What  could  you  have  done; 
what  could  you  do  now?  Don't  you  think  it  is 
about  time  for  you  to  realize  that  you  are  hurting 
no  one  but  yourself  by  harboring  such  black,  dis 
mal  thoughts.  Nobody  is  trying  to  cheat  you  — 
except  probably  the  Taggarts.  Everybody  here  is 
trying  their  best  to  be  friendly  to  you,  trying  to 
aid  in  making  those  reforms  which  your  father 
mentioned.  Dade  likes  you;  Bob  loves  you.  And 
even  my  grandfather  said  the  other  day  that  you 
are  not  a  bad  fellow.  You  have  been  making 
progress,  more  than  I  expected  you  to  make.  But 
you  must  make  more." 

The  mirth  had  died  out  of  her  eyes;  she  was 
deeply  in  earnest.  Calumet  could  see  that,  and 
the  knowledge  kept  him  silent,  hushed  the  half- 
formed  sarcastic  replies  that  were  on  his  lips,  made 
his  suspicions  seem  brutal,  preposterous,  ridicu 
lous.  There  was  much  feeling  in  her  voice;  he 
was  astonished  and  awed  at  the  change  in  her; 
he  had  not  seen  her  like  this  before.  Her  reserve 
was  gone,  the  disdain  with  it;  there  was  naked 
sincerity  in  her  glowing  eyes,  in  her  words,  in  her 
[295] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

manner.      He   watched  her,    fascinated,    as   she 
continued : 

"  I  think  you  can  see  now  that  if  I  had  wanted 
to  be  dishonest  you  could  not  have  stopped  me. 
My  honesty  proven,  what  must  have  been  my 
motive  in  staying  here  to  take  your  insults,  to 
submit  to  your  boorishness?  I  will  tell  you;  you 
may  believe  me  or  not,  as  you  please.  I  was 
grateful  to  your  father.  I  gave  him  my  promise. 
He  wanted  me  to  make  a  man  of  you. 

"  When  you  first  came  here,  and  I  saw  what  a 
burden  I  had  assumed,  I  was  afraid.  But  I  saw 
that  you  did  not  intend  to  take  advantage  of  me ; 
that  you  weren't  like  a  good  many  men  —  brutes 
who  prey  on  unprotected  women;  that  only  your 
temper  was  wanton.  And  instead  of  fearing  you 
I  began  to  pity  you.  I  saw  promise  in  you;  you 
had  manly  impulses,  but  you  hadn't  had  your 
chance.  I  had  faith  in  you.  To  a  certain  extent 
you  have  justified  that  faith.  You  have  shown 
flashes  of  goodness  of  heart;  you  have  exhibited 
generous,  manly  sympathies  —  to  everybody  but 
me.  But  I  do  not  care  [there  was  a  suspicious 
moisture  in  her  eyes  and  a  queer  tightening  of 
the  lips  that  gave  the  lie  to  this  declaration]  how 
you  treat  me.  I  intend  to  keep  my  promise  to 
[296] 


BETTY  TALKS  FRANKLY 

your  father,  no  matter  what  you  do.  But  I  want 
to  make  you  understand  that  I  am  not  the  kind  of 
woman  you  take  me  to  be  —  that  I  am  not  being 
made  a  fool  of  by  Neal  Taggart  —  or  by  any 
man! 

Calumet  did  not  reply;  the  effect  of  this 
passionate  defense  of  herself  on  him  was  deep 
and  poignant,  and  words  would  not  come  to  his 
lips.  Truth  had  spoken  to  him  —  he  knew  it. 
At  a  stroke  she  had  subdued  him,  humbled  him. 
It  was  as  though  a  light  had  suddenly  been  turned 
on  him,  showing  him  the  mean,  despicable  side  of 
him,  contrasting  it  with  the  little  good  which  had 
come  into  being  —  good  which  had  been  placed 
there,  fostered,  and  cultivated  into  promise.  Then 
the  light  had  been  as  suddenly  turned  off,  leaving 
him  with  a  gnawing,  impotent  longing  to  be  what 
she  wanted  him  to  be.  Involuntarily,  he  took  his 
hat  off  to  her  and  bowed  respectfully.  Then  he 
reached  a  swift  hand  into  an  inner  pocket  of  his 
vest  and  withdrew  it,  holding  out  a  paper  to  her. 
She  took  it  and  looked  wonderingly  at  it.  It  was 
the  diagram  of  the  clearing  in  the  timber  clump 
showing  where  the  idol  was  buried. 

Her  face  paled,  for  she  knew  that  his  action  in 
restoring  the  diagram  to  her  was  his  tribute  to 
£297] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

her  honesty,  an  evidence  of  his  trust  in  her,  despite 

his  uttered  suspicions.    Also,  it  was  his  surrender. 

She  looked  up,  intending  to  thank  him.    He  was 

walking  away,  and  did  not  look  around  at  her  call. 


1298} 


CHAPTER  XXI 

HIS  FATHER'S  FRIEND 

BETTY  did  not  see  Calumet  again  that  day, 
and  only  at  mealtime  on  the  day  following. 
He  had  nothing  to  say  to  her  at  these  times, 
though  it  was  plain  from  the  expression  on  his 
face  when  she  covertly  looked  at  him  that  he  was 
thinking  deeply.  She  hoped  this  were  true;  it 
was  a  good  sign.  On  the  morning  of  the  third 
day  he  saddled  the  black  horse  and  rode  away, 
telling  Bob,  who  happened  to  be  near  him  when 
he  departed,  that  he  was  going  to  Lazette. 

It  was  fully  two  hours  after  supper  when  he 
returned.  Malcolm,  Dade,  and  Bob  had  gone  to 
bed.  In  the  kitchen,  sitting  beside  the  table,  on 
which  was  a  spotlessly  clean  tablecloth,  with  dishes 
set  for  one  —  she  had  saved  Calumet's  supper, 
and  it  was  steaming  in  the  warming-closet  of  the 
stove  —  Betty  sat.  She  was  mending  Bob's  stock 
ings,  and  thinking  of  her  life  during  the  past  few 
months  —  and  Calumet.  And  when  she  heard  the 
black  come  into  the  ranchhouse  yard  —  she  knew 

[299] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

the  black's  gait  already  —  she  trembled  a  little, 
put  aside  her  mending,  and  went  to  the  window. 

The  moon  threw  a  white  light  in  the  yard,  and 
she  saw  Calumet  dismount.  When  he  did  not 
turn  the  black  into  the  corral,  hitching  him,  in 
stead,  to  one  of  the  rails,  without  even  removing 
the  saddle,  she  suspected  that  something  unusual 
had  happened. 

She  was  certain  of  it  when  she  heard  Calumet 
cross  the  porch  with  a  rapid  step,  and  if  in  her 
certainty  there  had  been  the  slightest  doubt,  it 
disappeared  when  he  opened  the  kitchen  door. 

He  looked  tired;  he  had  evidently  ridden  hard, 
for  the  alkali  dust  was  thick  on  his  clothing;  he 
was  breathing  fast,  his  eyes  were  burning  with 
some  deep  emotion,  his  lips  were  grim  and  hard. 

He  closed  the  door  and  stood  with  his  back 
against  it,  looking  at  her.  Something  had  wrought 
a  wonderful  change  in  him.  He  was  not  the 
Calumet  she  had  known  —  brutal,  vicious,  domi 
neering,  sneering;  though  he  was  laboring  under 
some  great  excitement,  suppressing  it,  so  that  to 
an  eye  less  keen  than  hers  it  might  have  seemed 
that  he  had  been  undergoing  some  great  physical 
exertion  and  was  just  recovering  from  it.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  he  had  found  himself;  that 

[300] 


HIS  FATHER'S  FRIEND 


that  regeneration  for  which  she  had  hoped  had 
come  —  had  taken  place  between  the  time  he  had 
left  that  morning  and  now. 

She  did  not  know  that  it  had  been  a  mighty 
struggle  of  three  days'  duration;  that  the  trans 
formation  had  been  a  slow,  tortuous  thing  to  him. 
She  only  knew  that  a  great  change  had  come  over 
him;  that,  in  spite  of  the  evident  strain  which 
was  upon  him,  there  was  something  gentle,  re 
spectful,  considerate,  in  his  face,  back  of  its 
exterior  hardness  —  a  slumbering,  triumphant 
something  that  made  an  instant  appeal  to  her, 
lighting  her  eyes,  coloring  her  face,  making  her 
heart  beat  with  an  unaccountable  gladness. 

"  Oh,"  she  said ;  "  what  has  happened  to  you  ?  " 

"Nothin',"  he  answered,  with  a  grave  smile. 
"That  is,  nothin' — yet.  Except  that  I've  found 
out  what  a  fool  I've  been.  But  I've  found  it  out 
too  late." 

"No,"  she  said,  reaching  the  quick  conclusion 
that  he  meant  it  was  too  late  for  him  to  complete 
his  reformation;  "it  is  never  too  late." 

"  I  think  I  know  what  you  mean,"  he  answered. 
"  But  you've  got  it  wrong.  It's  somethin'  else. 
I've  got  to  get  out  of  here  —  got  to  hit  the  breeze 
out  of  the  country.  The  sheriff  is  after  me." 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  7 

She  took  a  step  backward.  "What  for?"  she 
asked  breathlessly. 

"  For  killin1  Al  Sharp." 

"Al  Sharp!"  she  exclaimed,  staring  at  him  in 
amazement.  "  Why,  you  told  me  that  an  Indian 
named  Telza  killed  him !  " 

"That's  what  Sharp  told  me.  The  Taggarts 
claim  I  done  it.  They've  swore  out  a  warrant. 
I  got  wind  of  it  an'  I'm  gettin'  out.  There's  no 
use  tryin'  to  fight  the  law  in  a  case  like  this." 

"  But  you  didn't  kill  him  !  "  she  cried,  stiffening 
defiantly.  "You  said  you  didn't,  and  I  know  you 
wouldn't  lie.  They  can't  prove  that  you  did  it! " 

He  laughed.  "  You're  the  only  one  that  would 
believe  me.  Do  you  reckon  I  could  prove  that  I 
didn't  do  it?  There's  two  against  one.  The 
evidence  is  against  me.  The  Taggarts  found  me 
in  the  clearing  with  Sharp.  I  had  the  knife.  No 
one  else  was  around.  I  buried  Sharp.  The 
Taggarts  will  swear  against  me.  Where's  my 
chance?" 

She  was  silent,  and  he  laughed  again.  "They've 
got  me,  I  reckon  —  the  Taggarts  have.  I  fancied 
I  was  secure.  I  didn't  think  they'd  try  to  pull  off 
anything  like  this.  Shows  how  much  dependence 
a  man  can  put  in  anything.  They  don't  look  like 

[302] 


HIS  FATHER'S  FRIEND 


they  had  sense  enough  to  think  of  such  a  thing." 

He  stepped  away  from  the  door  and  went  to 
the  table,  looking  down  at  the  dishes  she  had  set 
out  for  him,  then  at  her,  with  a  regretful  smile 
which  brought  a  quick  pang  to  her. 

"  Shucks,"  he  said,  more  to  himself  than  to  her; 
"  if  this  had  happened  three  months  ago  I'd  have 
been  plumb  amused,  an'  I'd  have  had  a  heap  of 
fun  with  somebody  before  it  could  be  got  over 
with.  Somehow,  it  don't  seem  to  be  so  damned 
funny  now. 

"  It's  your  fault,  too,"  he  went  on,  regarding 
her  with  a  direct,  level  gaze.  "  Not  that  you  got 
me  into  this  mix-up,  you  understand  —  you're  not 
to  blame  for  a  thing — but  it's  your  fault  that  it 
don't  seem  funny  to  me.  You've  made  me  see 
things  different." 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  she  said,  standing  pale  and 
rigid  before  him. 

"Sorry  that  I'm  seein'  things  different?"  he 
said.  "No?"  at  her  quick,  reproachful  negative. 
"  Well,  then,  sorry  that  this  had  to  happen.  Well, 
I'm  sorry,  too.  You  see,"  he  added,  the  color 
reaching  his  face,  "  it  struck  me  while  I  was  ridin' 
over  here  that  I  wasn't  goin'  to  be  exactly  tickled 
over  leavin'.  It's  been  seemin'  like  home  to  me 
[303] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

for —  well,  for  a  longer  time  than  I  would  have 
admitted  three  days  ago,  when  I  had  that  talk 
with  you.  Or,  rather,"  he  corrected,  with  a  smile, 
"when  you  had  that  talk  with  me.  There's  a 
difference,  ain't  there?  Anyways,  there's  a  lot  of 
things  that  I  wouldn't  have  admitted  three  days 
ago.  But  I've  got  sense  now  —  I've  got  a  new 
viewpoint.  An'  somehow,  what  I'm  goin'  to  tell 
you  don't  seem  to  come  hard.  Because  it's  the 
truth,  I  reckon.  I've  knowed  it  right  along,  but 
kept  holdin'  it  back. 

"  Dade  had  me  sized  up  right.  He  said  I  was 
a  false  alarm;  that  I'd  been  thinkin'  of  myself 
too  much;  that  I'd  forgot  that  there  was  other 
people  in  the  world.  He  was  right;  I'd  forgot 
that  other  people  had  feelings.  But  if  he  hadn't 
told  me  that  them  was  your  views  I'd  have  sali 
vated  him.  But  I  couldn't  blame  him  for  repeatin' 
things  you'd  said,  because  about  that  time  I'd 
begun  to  do  some  thinkin'  myself. 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  found  that  I  wasn't  a 
whole  lot  proud  of  myself  for  guzzlin'  your 
grandad,  but  I'd  made  a  mistake  an'  I  wasn't 
goin'  to  give  you  a  chance  to  crow  over  me.  I 
expect  there's  a  lot  of  people  do  that,  but  they're 
on  the  wrong  trail  —  it  don't  bring  no  peace  to  a 
[304] 


HIS  FATHER'S  FRIEND 


man's  mind.  Then,  I  thought  you  was  like  all  the 
rest  of  the  women  I'd  known,  an'  when  I  found 
out  that  you  wasn't,  I  thought  you  had  the  swelled 
head  an'  I  figgered  to  take  you  down  a  peg.  When 
I  couldn't  do  that  it  made  me  sore.  It  made  me 
feel  some  cheap  when  you  showed  me  you  trusted 
me,  with  me  treatin'  you  like  I  did;  but  if  it's 
any  satisfaction  to  you,  I'm  tellin'  you  that  all  the 
time  I  was  treatin'  you  mean  I  felt  like  kickin* 
myself. 

"I  reckon  that's  all.  Don't  get  the  idea  that 
I'm  doin'  any  mushin'.  It's  just  the  plain  truth, 
an'  I've  had  to  tell  you.  That's  why  I  came  over 
here  —  I  wanted  to  square  things  with  you  before 
I  leave.  I  reckon  if  I'd  stay  here  you'd  never 
know  how  I  feel  about  it." 

She  was  staring  at  the  floor,  her  face  crimson, 
an  emotion  of  deep  gratitude  and  satisfaction 
filling  her,  though  mingled  with  it  was  a  queer 
sensation  of  regret.  Her  judgment  of  him  had 
been  vindicated;  she  had  known  all  along  that 
this  moment  would  come,  but,  now  that  it  had 
come,  it  was  not  as  she  had  pictured  it — there 
was  discord  where  there  should  be  harmony; 
something  was  lacking  to  make  the  situation 
perfect — he  was  going  away. 
[305] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

She  stood  nervously  tapping  the  floor  with  the 
toe  of  her  shoe,  hardly  hearing  his  last  words, 
almost  forgetting  that  he  was  in  the  room  until 
she  saw  his  hand  extended  toward  her.  Then  she 
looked  up  at  him.  There  was  a  grave  smile  on 
his  face. 

"  I  reckon  you'll  shake  hands  with  me,"  he  said, 
"just  to  show  that  you  ain't  holdin'  much  against 
me.  Well,  that  right,"  he  said  when  she  hesitated; 
"  I  don't  deserve  it." 

Her  hand  went  out;  he  looked  at  it,  with  a 
start,  and  then  seized  it  quickly  in  both  of  his, 
squeezed  it  hard,  his  eyes  aflame.  He  dropped 
it  as  quickly,  and  turned  to  the  do,or,  saying: 
"You're  a  brave  little  girl." 

She  stood  silent  until  his  hands  were  on  the 
fastenings  of  the  door. 

"Wait!"  she  said.  She  attempted  to  smile, 
but  some  emotion  stiffened  her  lips,  stifling  it. 
"You  haven't  had  your  supper,"  she  said;  "won't 
you  eat  if  I  get  it  ready?" 

"No  time,"  he  said.  "The  law  don't  adver 
tise  its  movements,  as  a  usual  thing,  an'  Toban's 
liable  to  be  here  any  minute.  An',"  he  added,  a. 
glint  of  the  old  hardness  in  his  eyes,  "  I  ain't  lettin' 
him  take  me.  It's  only  twenty  miles  to  the  line, 
[306] 


HIS  FATHER'S  FRIEND 


an'  the  way  I'm  intendin'  to  travel  I'll  be  over  it 
before  Toban  can  ketch  me.  I  don't  want  him  to 
ketch  me  —  he  was  a  friend  of  my  dad's,  an' 
puttin'  him  out  of  business  wouldn't  help  me 
none." 

"Will  you  be  safe,  then?"  she  asked  fearfully. 

"I  reckon.  But  I  won't  be  stoppin'  at  the  line. 
I'm  through  here;  there's  nothin'  here  to  hold 
me.  I  reckon  I'll  never  come  back  this  way. 
Shucks!"  he  added,  leaving  the  door  and  coming 
back  a  little  way  into  the  room;  "I  expect  I'm 
excited.  I  come  near  forgettin'.  It's  about  the 
idol  an'  the  money  an'  the  ranch.  I  don't  want 
any  of  them.  They're  yours.  You've  earned 
them  an'  you  deserve  them.  Go  to  Las  Vegas 
an'  petition  the  court  to  turn  the  property  over 
to  you;  tell  the  judge  I  flunked  on  the  specifica 
tions." 

"  I  don't  want  your  property,"  she  said  in  a 
strange  voice. 

"You've  got  to  take  it,"  he  returned,  with  a 
quick  look  at  her.  "Here"  —  he  drew  a  piece  of 
paper  and  a  short  pencil  from  an  inside  pocket 
of  his  vest,  and,  walking  fp  the  table,  wrote 
quickly,  giving  her  the  paper. 

"I  herewith  renounce  all  claim  to  my  father's 
[307] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

property,"  it  read;   "I  refuse  the  conditions  of 
the  will." 

It  was  signed  with  his  name.  While  he  stood 
watching  her,  she  tore  the  paper  to  small  bits, 
scattering  them  on  the  floor. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  regarding  him  fixedly, 
"that  you  are  not  exactly  chivalrous  in  leaving 
me  this  way;  that  you  are  more  concerned  over 
your  own  safety  than  over  mine.  What  do  you 
suppose  will  happen  when  the  Taggarts  discover 
that  you  have  gone  and  that  I  am  here  alone?" 

His  eyes  glinted  with  hatred.  "The  Taggarts," 
he  laughed.  "  Did  you  think  I  was  going  to  let 
them  off  so  easy?  I'm  charged  with  one  murder, 
ain't  I?  Well,  after  tonight  there  won't  be  any 
Taggarts  to  bother  anybody." 

"You  mean  to — "  Her  eyes  widened  with 
horror. 

"  I  reckon,"  he  said.  "  Did  you  think  I  was 
runnin'  away  without  squarin'  things  with  them?" 
There  was  a  threat  of  death  in  his  cold  laugh. 

While  she  stood  with  clenched  hands,  evidently 
moved  by  the  threat  in  his  manner  and  words,  he 
said  "  So-long,"  shortly,  and  swung  the  door  open. 

She  followed  three  or  four  steps,  again  calling 
upon  him  to  "wait."    He  turned  in  the  doorway 
[308] 


HIS  FATHER'S  FRIEND 


and  went  slowly  back  to  her.  She  was  nervous, 
breathless,  and  he  looked  wonderingly  at  her. 

"Wait  just  a  minute,"  she  said;  "  I  have  some 
thing  to  give  you." 

She  darted  into  the  sitting-room;  he  could  hear 
her  running  up  the  stairs.  She  was  gone  a  long 
time,  so  long  a  time  that  he  grew  impatient  and 
paced  the  floor  with  long,  hasty  strides.  He  was 
certain  that  it  was  fully  five  minutes  before  she 
reappeared,  and  then  her  manner  was  more 
nervous  than  ever. 

"You  act,"  he  said  suspiciously,  "as  though 
you  wanted  to  keep  me  here." 

"No,  no,"  she  denied  breathlessly,  her  eyes 
bright  and  her  cheeks  aflame.  "  How  can  you 
think  that?  I  have  brought  you  some  money; 
you  will  need  it."  She  had  a  leather  bag  in  her 
hands,  and  she  seized  it  by  the  bottom  and  turned 
out  its  contents  —  a  score  or  more  of  twenty- 
dollar  gold  pieces. 

"Take  them,"  she  said  as  he  hesitated.  And, 
not  waiting  for  him  to  act,  she  began  to  gather 
them  up.  She  was  nervous,  though,  and  dropped 
many  of  them  several  times,  so  that  he  felt  that 
time  would  have  been  gained  if  she  had  not 
touched  them.  He  returned  them  to  the  bag, 
[309] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

with  her  help,  and  placed  the  bag  in  a  pocket  of 
his  trousers.  Then  once  more  he  said  good-by 
to  her. 

This  time,  however,   she  stood  between  him 
and  the  door,  and  when  he  tried  to  step  around' 
her  she  changed  her  position  so  as  to  be  always 
in  front  of  him. 

"  Tell  me  where  you  are  going?  "  she  said. 

"What  do  you  want  to  know  for?"  he 
demanded. 

"Just  because,"  she  said;  "because  I  want  to 
know." 

His  eyes  lighted  with  a  deep  fire  as  he  looked 
at  her.  She  was  very  close  to  him;  he  felt  her 
warm  breath;  saw  her  bosom  heave  rapidly,  and 
a  strange  intoxication  seized  him. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  ?  "  he  said,  with  sudden  hoarse 
ness,  as  though  asking  himself  the  question.  He 
grasped  her  by  the  shoulders  and  looked  closely 
at  her,  his  eyes  boring,  probing,  as  though  search 
ing  for  some  evidence  of  duplicity  in  hers.  For 
an  instant  his  gaze  held.  Then  he  laughed, 
softly,  self-accusingly. 

"I  thought  you  was  stringin'  me  —  just  for  a 
minute,"  he  said.  "  But  you're  true  blue,  an'  I'll 
tell  you.  I'm  goin'  first  to  the  Arrow  to  hand  the 


HIS  FATHER'S  FRIEND 


Taggarts  their  pass-out  checks.  Then  I'm  hittin' 
the  breeze  to  Durango.  If  you  ever  want  me, 
send  for  me  there,  an'  I'll  come  back  to  you, 
sheriff  or  no  sheriff." 

She  put  out  a  hand  to  detain  him,  but  he  seized 
it  and  pressed  it  to  her  side,  the  other  with  it. 
Then  his  arms  went  around  her  shoulders,  she  was 
crushed  against  him,  and  his  lips  met  hers. 

Then  she  was  suddenly  released,  and  he  was  at 
the  door. 

"  Good-by,"  he  said  as  he  stood  in  the  opening, 
the  glare  of  light  from  the  lamp  showing  his  face, 
pale,  the  eyes  illumined  with  a  fire  that  she  had 
never  seen  in  them;  "I'm  sorry  it  has  to  end 
this  way  —  I  was  hopin'  for  somethin'  different. 
You've  made  me  almost  a  man." 

Then  the  door  closed  and  he  was  gone.  She 
stood  by  the  table  for  a  few  minutes,  holding 
tightly  to  it  for  support,  her  eyes  wide  from 
excitement. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  if  I  could  only  have  kept  him 
here  a  few  minutes  longer!  " 

She  walked  to  the  door  and  stood  in  the  open 
ing,  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hands.  He  had 
not  been  gone  long,  but  already  he  was  riding  the 
river  trail ;  she  saw  him  outlined  in  the  moonlight, 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

leaning  a  little  forward  in  the  saddle,  the  black 
running  with  a  long,  swift,  sure  stride.  She 
watched  them  until  a  bend  in  the  trail  shut  them 
from  view,  and  then  with  a  sob  she  bowed  her 
head  in  her  arms. 


CHAPTER 

NEAL  TAGGART  VISITS 

YT  THEN  a  little  later  Betty  heard  hoof-teats 
T  Y  in  the  ranchhouse  yard — the  sounds  of  a 
horseman  making  a  leisurely  approach  —  she  left 
the  door  and  went  out  upon  the  porch. 

She  knew  who  the  horseman  was;  she  had  seen 
him  from  the  window  of  her  room  when  she  had 
gone  upstairs  to  get  the  money  for  Calumet. 
More  than  once  she  had  seen  the  sheriff  coming 
over  the  hill  —  the  same  hill  upon  which  Calumet 
and  Neal  Taggart  had  fought  their  duel  —  and 
she  recognized  the  familiar  figure.  On  his  pre 
vious  visits  to  the  ranchhouse,  however,  Toban 
had  left  his  horse  in  the  timber  clump  near  the 
house.  She  was  not  surprised,  though,  to  hear 
him  coming  into  the  ranchhouse  yard  tonight,  for 
his  errand  now  was  different. 

Toban  had  evidently  intended  to  hitch  his  pony 
to  the  corral  fence,  for  it  was  toward  it  that  he 
was  directing  the  animal,  when  he  caught  sight  of 
Betty  on  the  porch  and  rode  up  beside  her. 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"What's  up?"  he  inquired,  leaning  over  in  the 
saddle  and  peering  closely  at  her;  "you  look 
flustered.  Where's  Marston?" 

"  Gone,"  she  told  him. 

He  straightened.  "Gone  where?"  he  de 
manded. 

"Away  —  forever,"  she  said  weakly.  "He 
heard  you  were  after  him  for — for  killing  that 
man  Sharp  —  and  he  left." 

Toban  cursed.  "So  he  got  wind  of  it,  did  he? 
The  Taggarts  must  have  gassed  about  it.  Mars- 
ton  told  you,  did  he?  Why  didn't  you  keep  him 
here?  He  didn't  kill  Sharp !" 

"I  know  it,"  she  said;  "he  told  me  he  didn't, 
and  I  believed  him.  He  said  you  had  a  warrant 
for  his  arrest;  that  you  were  coming  for  him,  and 
I  was  afraid  that  if  you  met  him  out  on  the  range 
somewhere  there  would  be  shooting.  I  knew  if 
I  could  keep  him  here  until  you  came  you  would 
be  able  to  fix  it  up  some  way — to  prove  his  inno 
cence.  I  was  so  glad,  when  I  ran  upstairs  to  get 
some  money  for  him  and  looked  out  of  the  win 
dow.  For  you  were  coming.  But  he  wouldn't 
stay." 

Toban  dismounted  and  stood  in  front  of  her, 
his  eyes  probing  into  hers.  "I've  got  evidence 


NEAL  TAGGART  FISITS 


that  he  didn't  kill  Sharp,"  he  said;  "I  saw  the 
whole  deal.  But  I  reckon,"  he  added,  a  subtle 
gleam  in  his  eyes,  "that  it's  just  as  well  that  he's 
gone  —  he  was  a  heap  of  trouble  while  he  was 
here,  anyway,  wasn't  he?" 

"No,"  she  said  quickly,  defiantly;  "he — " 
She  broke  off  and  looked  at  him  with  wide  eyes. 
" Oh,"  she  said  with  a  quavering  laugh;  "you  are 
poking  fun  at  me.  You  liked  him,  too ;  you  told 
me  you  did !  " 

"  I  reckon  I  like  him,"  said  Toban,  his  lips 
grimming;  "I  like  him  well  enough  not  to  let 
him  pull  his  freight  on  account  of  the  Taggarts. 
Why,  damn  it!"  he  added  explosively;  "I  was 
his  father's  friend,  an'  I  ain't  seein'  him  lose 
everything  he's  got  here  when  he's  innocent. 
Which  way  did  he  go  ?  " 

There  was  a  wild  hope  in  her  eyes;  she  was 
breathing  fast.  "Oh,"  she  said;  "are  you  going 
after  him?  He  went  to  the  Arrow — first.  He 
told  me  he  was  going  to  kill  the  Taggarts.  Then 
he  is  going  to  get  out  of  the  Territory.  Oh, 
Toban,  catch  him  —  please!  I — " 

Toban  laughed.  "  I  ain't  been  blind,  girl,"  he 
said;  "the  talks  I've  had  with  you  in  old  Mars- 
ton's  office  haye  wised  me  up  to  how  things  stand 
[315] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE 


between  you  an'  him.  I'll  ketch  him,  don't  worry 
about  that.  That  black  horse  of  his  is  some  horse, 
but  he  ain't  got  nothin'  on  my  old  dust-thrower, 
an'  I  reckon  that  in  fifteen  miles  —  " 

He  was  climbing  into  the  saddle  while  talking, 
and  at  his  last  word  he  gave  the  spurs  to  his  horse, 
a  strong,  clean-limbed  bay,  and  was  away  in  a 
cloud  of  dust 

Betty  watched  him,  her  hands  clasped  over  her 
breast,  her  body  rigid  and  tense,  her  eyes  strain 
ing,  until  she  saw  him  vanish  around  the  bend 
in  the  trail;  and  then  for  a  long  time  she  stood 
on  the  porch,  scanning  the  distant  horizon,  in  the 
hope  that  she  might  again  see  Toban  and  be 
assured  that  nothing  had  happened  to  him.  And 
when  at  last  she  saw  a  speck  moving  swiftly  along 
a  distant  rise,  she  murmured  a  prayer  and  went 
into  the  house. 

When  she  closed  the  kitchen  door  and  stood 
against  it,  looking  around  the  room,  she  was 
afflicted  with  a  depressing  sense  of  loss,  and  she 
realized  fully  how  Calumet  had  grown  into  her 
life,  and  what  it  would  mean  to  her  if  she  lost 
him.  He  had  been  mean,  cruel,  and  vicious,  but 
he  had  awakened  at  last  to  a  sense  of  his  short 
comings;  he  was  like  a  boy  who  had  had  no 


NEAL  TAGGART  VISITS 


training,  who  had  grown  wild  and  ungovernable, 
but  who,  before  it  had  become  too  late,  had  awak 
ened  to  the  futility,  the  absurdity,  the  falseness 
of  it  all,  and  was  determined  to  begin  anew.  And 
she  felt  —  as  she  had  felt  all  along  —  even  when 
she  had  seen  him  at  his  worst  —  that  she  must 
mother  him,  must  help  him  to  build  up  a  new 
structure  of  self,  must  lift  him,  must  give  him 
what  the  world  had  so  far  denied  him  —  his 
chance.  And  she  sat  at  the  table  and  leaned  her 
head  in  her  arms  and  prayed  that  Toban  might 
overtake  him  before  he  reached  the  Arrow.  For 
she  did  not  want  him  to  come  back  to  her  with  the 
stain  of  their  blood  on  his  hands. 

She  was  startled  while  sitting  at  the  table,  for 
she  heard  a  sound  from  the  sitting-room,  and  she 
got  up  to  investigate.  But  it  was  only  Bob,  who, 
hearing  the  sounds  made  by  Toban  and  herself, 
had  come  to  investigate.  She  urged  him  to  return 
to  his  room  and  to  bed,  and  kissed  him  when  he 
started  up  the  stairs,  so  warmly  that  he  looked  at 
her  in  surprise. 

She  returned  to  the  kitchen,  sitting  at  the  table 
and  watching  the  clock.  A  half  hour  had  elapsed 
since  Toban's  departure  when  she  heard  the 
faint  beat  of  hoofs  in  the  distance,  and  with 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

wildly  beating  heart  got  up  and  went  out  on  the 
porch. 

For  a  moment  she  could  not  determine  the 
direction  from  which  the  sounds  came,  but  pres 
ently  she  saw  a  rider  approaching  from  the  direc 
tion  of  the  river,  and  she  stepped  down  from  the 
porch  and  advanced  to  meet  him.  She  feared  at 
first  that  it  was  Toban  returning  alone,  and  she 
halted  and  stood  with  clenched  hands,  but  as  the 
rider  came  closer  she  saw  it  was  not  Toban  but 
an  entire  stranger.  She  retreated  to  the  porch 
and  watched  his  approach. 

He  was  a  cowboy  and  he  rode  up  to  the  edge 
of  the  porch  confidently,  calling  to  her  when  he 
came  close  enough  to  make  himself  heard. 

"My  name's  Miller,"  he  said,  taking  his  hat 
off  and  showing  her  the  face  of  a  man  of  thirty 
— "  Harvey  Miller.  Me  an'  my  side-kicker  was 
drivin'  a  bunch  of  Three  Bar  beeves  to  Lazette 
an'  we  was  fools  enough  to  run  afoul  of  that 
quicksand  at  Double  Fork,  about  five  miles  down 
the  crick.  We've  bogged  down  about  forty  head 
an'  I've  come  for  help.  You  got  any  men  around 
here?" 

"Oh,"  she  said;  "how  careless  you  were! 
Didn't  you  know  the  quicksand  was  there?" 


NEAL  TAGGART  VISITS 


"  I  ain't  been  runnin'  this  range  a  whole  lot," 
said  the  puncher  uneasily;  "but  I  reckon  even 
then  I  ought  to  be  able  to  nose  out  a  quicksand. 
But  I  didn't,  an'  there's  forty  beeves  that's  goin' 
to  cow-heaven  pretty  soon  if  somethin'  ain't  done. 
If  you've  got  any  men  around  here  which  could 
give  us  a  lift,  we'd  be  pleased  to  thank  you." 

"Of  course,"  she  said.      "Wait!" 

She  went  into  the  house  and  to  the  stairs  where 
she  called  to  Dade  and  Malcolm,  and  presently, 
rubbing  their  eyes,  the  two  came  down.  They 
were  eager  to  assist  the  puncher  in  his  trouble 
and  without  delay  they  caught  up  the  two  horses 
that  Calumet  had  bought  soon  after  his  coming 
to  the  ranch,  saddled  and  bridled  them  and  rode 
out  of  the  yard. 

The  unfortunate  puncher  did  not  wait  for  them. 
When  they  had  announced  their  intention  of  help 
ing  him,  he  had  told  them  that  he  would  ride  on 
ahead  to  help  his  partner,  leaving  them  to  follow 
as  soon  as  they  could. 

"  I  reckon  you  know  where  it  is,"  was  his  part 
ing  word  to  them.  "  Double  Fork.  I  reckon  I'll 
know  it  egain  when  I  see  it,"  he  added,  grimly 
joking. 

Betty  watched  Dade  and  Malcolm  as  they  rode 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

away.  From  the  porch  she  could  follow  their 
movements  until  they  traveled  about  a  mile  of 
the  distance  toward  Double  Fork.  She  saw  them 
vanish  into  the  wood,  and  when  she  could  see 
them  no  longer  she  turned  and  went  into  the 
house. 

She  went  to  the  chair  in  which  she  had  pre 
viously  been  sitting,  resting  her  arms  on  the 
table,  but  she  was  too  nervous,  too  excited,  to 
sit  and  she  presently  got  up  and  stood,  looking 
anxiously  at  the  face  of  the  clock  on  a  shelf  in  a 
corner. 

Toban  had  been  gone  a  full  hour,  and  she  won 
dered  if  by  this  time  he  had  overtaken  Calumet, 
or  whether  Calumet  was  racing  ahead  of  him 
on  his  way  to  execute  vengeance  upon  the  Tag- 
garts.  She  was  praying  mutely  that  Toban  might 
overtake  him  before  this  could  happen  when  she 
heard  a  slight  sound  behind  her  and  turned  swiftly 
to  see  Neal  Taggart  standing  in  the  doorway, 
grinning  at  her. 

The  room  darkened  before  her  eyes  as  she 
swayed  weakly  and  caught  at  the  table  to  support 
herself,  and  when  she  finally  regained  control  of 
herself  she  forced  herself  to  stand  erect.  There 
was  a  great  fear  in  her  heart,  but  she  fought  it 


NEAL  TAGGART  VISITS 


down  and  faced  Taggart  with  some  semblance  of 
dignity  and  composure. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  she  demanded; 
"what  do  you  want?" 

Taggart's  face  wore  an  evil  smile.  Before  an 
swering  her  he  fastened  the  door  behind  him,  left 
it  and  went  to  the  sitting-room  door,  peered 
quickly  into  the  room  and  swung  the  door  shut, 
barring  it.  Betty  stood  beside  the  table,  watch 
ing  him  with  a  sort  of  fascination,  a  little  color 
now  in  her  face,  though  she  lacked  the  power 
to  speak  or  to  interfere  with  Taggart's  move 
ments. 

When  he  had  barred  the  sitting-room  door  he  ^ 
came  and  stood  beside  the  table,  and  there  was 
a  repulsive,  insulting  leer  on  his  face  as  he  looked 
down  at  her. 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  came  here  for?  "  he  said. 

"No,"  she  answered. 

He  reached  out  suddenly  and  grasped  her 
hands,  pulling  her  roughly  over  to  him.  She  gave 
a  startled  cry  and  then  stood  silent  before  him, 
slender  and  white,  a  subdued  little  figure  dwarfed 
by  his  huge  bulk,  seemingly  helpless. 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  he  said,  the  strange  hoarse 
ness  of  deep  passion  in  his  voice.  "  Me  an'  my 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

dad  are  leavin'  the  country  tonight.  We  sold 
the  Arrow  today,  an'  by  this  time  tomorrow  we'll 
be  among  the  missin'  in  this  section  of  the  country. 
But  there's  some  things  to  be  done  before  we  pull 
our  freight.  You  think  you've  been  damned  slick 
about  the  idol  —  you  an'  that  mule-kickin'  short 
horn,  Calumet  Marston !  But  we've  fooled  you," 
he  continued  with  a  short,  ugly  laugh;  "fooled 
you  clean!  Mebbe  you  know  this,  an'  mebbe 
you  don't.  But  I'm  tellin'  you.  We  set  Telza, 
the  Toltec,  an'  Sharp  to  get  the  diagram  of  the 
place  where  the  idol  is.  They  didn't  get  it  be 
cause  the  clearin'  ain't  dug  up  any.  Telza  knifed 
-  Sharp  an'  he's  sloped,  likely  figgerin'  that  this 
country  ain't  healthy  for  him  any  more.  You've 
got  the  diagram  an'  I  want  it.  I'm  goin'  to  get 
it  if  I  have  to  kill  you  to  get  it!  Understand! 
"You've  got  no  chance,"  he  sneered,  as  she 
looked  around  the  room  furtively,  hopelessly. 
"We  framed  up  a  murder  charge  on  Calumet  and 
we've  been  in  the  timber  since  dark  waitin'  for 
the  sheriff  to  come  an'  get  him.  We  saw  him  hit 
the  breeze  toward  the  Arrow,  an'  we  saw  the 
sheriff  go  after  him.  Neither  of  them  can  be 
back  here  for  hours  yet,  an'  when  they  do  get 
back  I'll  have  done  what  I've  set  out  to  do." 
[322] 


NEAL  TAGGART  VISITS 


He  laughed  again,  harshly,  triumphantly. 
"Dade  an'  Malcolm  bothered  me  a  bit  until  I 
thought  of  sendin'  Harvey  Miller  here  with  that 
fairy  tale  about  the  forty  beeves  bogged  down  in 
Double  Fork,  but  I  reckon  now — " 

She  gasped,  comprehending  the  trap  he  had 
set  for  her,  and  his  grip  on  her  hands  tight 
ened. 

"  Dade  an'  Malcolm  can't  get  back  for  an  hour 
yet,"  he  gloated,  "  an'  by  that  time  we'll  be  miles 
away."  His  voice  changed  from  mockery  to  sav 
age  determination.  "  I  want  that  diagram,  an' 
I  want  it  right  now,  or  I'll  tear  you  to  pieces.  Do 
you  understand?  I'll  beat  you  up  so's  your  own 
mother  wouldn't  know  you."  His  grip  tightened 
on  her  arms,  they  were  twisted  until  she  screamed 
with  agony. 

In  this  extremity  her  thoughts  went  to  Calumet; 
she  remembered  vividly  what  he  had  said  about 
the  idol  when  she  had  asked  him  why  he  did  not 
get  it  and  convert  it  into  cash.  "  I  ain't  so  much 
stuck  on  monkeyin'  with  them  religious  things," 
he  had  said.  And  she  was  certain  that  if  Calumet 
knew  of  her  danger  he  would  not  have  had  her 
hesitate  an  instant  in  relinquishing  the  diagram 
to  Taggart. 

[323] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

The  idol  had  brought  him  nothing  but  evil, 
anyway,  and  she  was  certain  that  Calumet  would 
not  mourn  its  loss,  even  if  Taggart  were  to  be 
the  gainer  by  it,  if  its  possession  were  to  entail 
punishment,  death,  perhaps,  to  her. 

"Wait!"  she  cried  as  Taggart  gave  her  arms 
an  extra  vicious  twitch;  "you  may  have  it!" 

He  released  her  with  a  greedy,  satisfied  grin 
and  stood  crouching  and  alert  while  she  turned 
her  back  to  him  and  fumbled  in  her  bodice,  where 
she  had  kept  the  diagram  since  the  discovery  of 
its  former  hiding  place  by  Telza. 

She  turned  presently  and  gave  him  the  paper, 
and  he  seized  it  eagerly  and  examined  it,  gloating 
over  it. 

"That's  it,"  he  said;  "that's  the  clearing!" 

She  was  holding  her  arms,  where  he  had 
squeezed  them,  her  face  flushed  with  rage  at  the 
indignity  he  had  offered  her.  She  stood  rigid, 
defiant. 

"  If  that  is  all  you  came  for,  you  may  go,"  she 
said;  " go  instantly !" 

He  jammed  the  paper  into  his  pocket  and 
grinned  at  her. 

"  It  ain't  all,"  he  said.     "  I  owe  you  somethin' 
for  the  way  you've  treated  me.     I'm  goin'  to  pay 
[324] 


NEAL  TAGGART  VISITS 


it.  You've  been  too  much  of  a  lady  to  talk  to 
me,  but  you'll  live  here  with  that — " 

He  reached  suddenly  out  and  seized  her  hands 
again,  attempting  to  throw  an  arm  around  her. 
She  evaded  the  arm  and  wrenched  herself  free, 
slipping  past  him  and  darting  to  the  other  side 
of  the  table.  He  stood  opposite  her,  his  hands 
on  the  table  as  he  leaned  toward  her,  grinning 
at  her,  brutally  and  bestially,  and  pausing  so  as  to 
prolong  his  enjoyment  of  her  predicament. 

"I'll  get  you,  damn  you!"  he  said;  "I've  got 
the  time  and  you  can't  get  out."  He  seized  the 
kerosene  lamp  on  the  table  and  walking  back 
ward,  placed  it  on  a  shelf  at  the  side  of  the  wall 
near  the  stove.  Then  with  a  chuckle  of  satisfac 
tion  and  mockery  he  again  went  to  the  table 
seizing  its  edge  in  his  hands  and  shoving  it  against 
her  so  that  she  was  forced  to  retreat  from  its 
advance. 

She  divined  instantly  that  he  intended  to  force 
her  against  one  of  the  walls  and  thus  corner  her, 
and  she  opposed  her  strength  to  his,  pushing  with 
all  her  power  against  the  table  in  an  effort  to 
retard  its  advance. 

It  was  to  no  purpose,  for  he  was  a  strong  man 
and  his  passions  were  aroused,  and  in  spite  of  her 

[325] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  7 

brave  struggle  the  table  continued  to  move  and 
she  to  retreat  before  it. 

"Oh! "  she  said,  in  a  panic  of  fear  and  dread, 
her  face  flushed,  her  eyes  wide  and  bright,  her 
breath  coming  in  great  panting  sobs;  "Oh!  you 
beast!  You  beast! " 

He  did  not  answer.  His  eyes  were  burning 
with  a  wanton  fire,  they  glowed  with  the  fierce, 
fell  purpose  of  animal  desire;  he  breathed  shrilly, 
rapidly,  gaspingly,  though  the  strength  that  he 
had  been  compelled  to  use  to  overmatch  h-ers  had 
not  been  great. 

She  did  not  succeed  in  retarding  the  advance  of 
the  table,  but  she  did  succeed  in  directing  its 
course  a  little,  so  that  instead  of  backing  her 
against  the  wall,  as  he  no  doubt  intended  to  do, 
she  brought  up  finally  against  the  stove  in  the 
corner. 

There  was  a  fire  in  the  stove  —  she  had  kept' 
it  going  to  keep  Calumet's  supper  warm  —  and 
when  she  felt  her  body  against  it  she  reached 
around  and  secured  a  flat  iron.  The  handle 
burned  her  hand,  but  she  lifted  it  and  hurled  it 
with  all  her  force  at  his  head.  He  dodged, 
laughing  derisively.  She  seized  another  and 
threw  it,  and  this  he  dodged  also.  She  was 
[326] 


NEAL  TAGGART  VISITS 


reaching  for  the  teakettle  when  he  shoved  the 
table  aside  and  lunged  at  her,  and  she  dropped 
the  kettle  with  a  scream  of  horror  and  slipped 
around  the  stove  to  the  wall  near  the  sitting-room 
door,  reaching  the  latter  and  trying  frantically 
to  unbar  it. 

She  heard  Bob's  voice  on  the  other  side  of  the 
door;  he  was  calling,  "Betty!  Betty!"  in  shrill, 
scared  accents,  and  when  Taggart  leaped  at  her, 
seizing  her  by  the  shoulders  as  she  worked  with 
the  fastenings  of  the  door,  she  screamed  to  Bob 
to  get  the  rifle  from  Malcolm's  room,  directing 
him  to  go  out  the  front  way,  go  around  to  the 
kitchen  and  shoot  Taggart  through  one  of  the 
windows. 

How  long  she  struggled  with  Taggart  there 
by  the  door  she  did  not  know.  It  might  have 
been  an  hour  or  merely  a  minute.  But  she  fought 
him,  clawing  at  his  face  with  her  hands,  biting 
him,  kicking  him.  And  she  remembered  that 
he  was  getting  the  better  of  her,  that  his  breath 
was  in  her  face  and  that  he  was  dragging  her 
toward  the  lamp  on  the  shelf,  evidently  intending 
to  extinguish  it  —  that  he  had  almost  reached  it, 
was,  indeed,  reaching  a  hand  out  to  grasp  it, 
when  there  came  a  flash  from  the  window,  the 
[327] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

crash  of  breaking  glass,  and  the  roar  of  an  explod 
ing  firearm. 

She  also  remembered  thinking  that  Bob  had 
taken  a  desperate  chance  in  shooting  at  Taggart 
when  she  was  so  close  to  him,  and  she  had  a  vivid 
recollection  of  Taggart  releasing  her  and  stag 
gering  back  without  uttering  a  sound.  She  caught 
a  glimpse  of  his  face  as  he  sank  to  the  floor;  there 
was  a  gaping  hole  in  his  forehead  and  his  eyes 
were  set  and  staring  with  an  expression  of  awful 
horror  and  astonishment.  Then  the  kitchen  dark 
ened,  she  felt  the  floor  rising  to  meet  her,  and  she 
knew  no  more. 


[3281 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

FOR  THE  ALTARS  OF   HIS  TRIBE 

THE  first  sound  that  Betty  heard  when  con* 
sciousness  began  to  return  to  her  was  a 
loud  pounding  at  the  kitchen  door. 

She  had  fallen  to  the  floor  just  beneath  the 
shelf  on  which  the  lamp  sat,  and  she  raised  her 
self  on  an  elbow  and  looked  around.  At  first 
she  did  not  remember  what  had  happened,  and 
then  she  saw  Taggart,  lying  face  upward  on  the 
floor  near  her,  the  frightful  hole  in  his  forehead, 
and  she  shuddered  as  recollection  in  a  sickening 
flood  came  to  her.  Bob,  dear  Bob,  had  not  failed 
her. 

She  got  up,  trembling  a  little,  breathing  a  prayer 
of  thankfulness,  shrinking  from  the  Thing  that 
lay  on  the  floor  at  her  feet  with  its  horror- 
stricken  eyes  staring  straight  up  at  the  ceiling, 
making  her  way  to  the  kitchen  door,  for  the 
pounding  had  grown  louder  and  more  insistent, 
and  she  could  hear  a  voice  calling  hoarsely  to 
her. 

[329] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

But  it  did  not  seem  to  be  Bob's  voice;  it  was 
deeper  and  more  resonant,  and  vibrated  clearly, 
strongly,  and  with  passion.  It  was  strangely 
familiar,  though,  and  she  shook  a  little  with  a 
nameless  anxiety  and  anticipation  as  she  fumbled 
at  the  fastenings  of  the  door  and  swung  it  open. 

It  was  not  Bob,  but  Calumet,  who  stepped  in. 
One  of  his  heavy  pistols  was  in  his  right  hand; 
with  the  left  he  had  helped  her  to  swing  the  door 
open,  and  he  stood,  for  the  first  brief  instant  fol 
lowing  his  entrance,  his  arms  extended,  gazing 
sharply  at  Taggart.  Then,  quickly,  apparently 
satisfied  that  he  need  have  no  concern  for  his 
enemy,  he  turned  to  Betty,  placed  both  hands  on 
her  shoulders  —  the  heavy  pistol  in  his  right  rest 
ing  on  her — she  felt  the  warmth  of  the  barrel  as 
it  touched  the  thin  material  of  her  dress  and  knew 
then  that  it  had  been  he  who  had  fired  the  shot 
that  had  been  the  undoing  of  her  assailant — and 
holding  her  away  from  him  a  little  peered  search- 
ingly  at  her. 

His  face  was  pale,  his  lips  stiff  and  white,  and 
his  eyes  were  alight  with  the  wanton  fire  that  she 
had  seen  in  them  many  times,  though  now  there 
was  something  added  to  their  expression  —  con 
cern  and  thankfulness. 

[330] 


Calumet  stepped  in 


FOR  THE  ALTARS  OF  HIS  TRIBE 

"God!"  he  said,  after  a  little  space,  during 
which  she  looked  at  him  with  shining  eyes.  She 
no  longer  gave  any  thought  to  Taggart;  the 
struggle  with  him  was  an  already  fading  night 
mare  in  her  recollection;  he  had  been  eliminated, 
destroyed,  by  the  man  who  stood  before  her — 
by  the  man  whose  presence  in  the  kitchen  now 
stirred  her  to  an  emotion  that  she  had  never  be 
fore  experienced  —  by  the  man  who  had  come 
back  to  her.  And  that  was  all  that  she  had 
cared  for  —  that  he  would  come  back. 

With  a  short  laugh  he  released  her  and  stepped 
over  to  where  Taggart  lay,  looking  down  at  him 
with  a  cold,  satisfied  smile. 

"  I  reckon  you  won't  bother  nobody  any  more," 
he  said. 

He  turned  to  Betty,  the  pale  stiffness  of  his  lips 
softening  a  little  as  she  smiled  at  him. 

"  I  want  to  thank  you,"  he  said,  "  for  sendin' 
Toban  after  me.  He  caught  me.  I  wasn't 
ridin'  so  fast  an'  I  heard  him  comin'.  I  knowed 
who  it  was,  an'  stopped  to  have  it  out  with  him. 
He  yelled  that  he  didn't  want  me;  that  you'd 
sent  him  after  me.  We  met  Dade  an'  Malcolm 
—  we'd  passed  Double  Fork  an'  nothin'  was 
bogged  down.  So  we  knowed  somebody'd  framed 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

somethin'  up.  I  come  on  ahead."  He  grinned. 
"  Toban's  been  braggin'  some  about  his  horse,  but 
I  reckon  that  don't  go  any  more.  That  black 
horse  can  run."  He  indicated  Taggart.  "  I 
reckon  he  come  here  just  to  bother  you,"  he 
said. 

She  told  him  about  the  diagram  and  he  started, 
stepping  quickly  to  where  Taggart  lay,  searching 
in  his  pockets  until  he  found  the  paper. 

Then  he  went  to  the  door.  Standing  in  it,  he 
looked  as  he  had  looked  that  day  when  he  had 
humiliated  Neal  Taggart  in  her  presence.  The 
gentleness  which  she  had  seen  in  him  some  hours 
before  —  and  which  she  had  welcomed  —  had 
disappeared;  his  lips  had  become  stiff  and  pale 
again,  his  eyes  were  narrowed  and  brilliant  with 
the  old  destroying  fire.  She  grew  rigid  and  drew 
a  deep,  quivering  breath,  for  she  saw  that  the 
pistol  was  still  in  his  hand. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  she  asked. 
"  I  reckon  old  Taggart  will  still  be  waitin'  in 
the  timber  grove,"   he   said  with  a   short,   grim 
laugh.       "They've   bothered   me   enough.      I'm 
goin'  to  send  him  where  I  sent  his  coyote  son." 
At  that  word  she  was  close  to  him,  her  hands 
on  his  shoulders. 

[332] 


FOR  THE  ALTARS  OF  HIS  TRIBE 

"  Don't !  "  she  pleaded ;  "  please  don't ! "  She 
shuddered  and  cast  a  quick,  shrinking  glance  at 
the  man  on  the  floor.  "There  has  been  enough 
trouble  tonight,"  she  said.  "You  stay  here!" 
she  commanded,  trying  to  pull  him  away  from  the 
door,  but  not  succeeding. 

He  seized  her  face  with  his  hands  in  much  the 
same  manner  in  which  he  had  seized  it  in  his 
father's  office  on  the  night  of  his  return  to  the 
Lazy  Y  —  she  felt  the  cold  stock  of  the  pistol 
against  her  cheek  and  shuddered  again.  A  new 
light  had  leaped  into  his  eyes  —  the  suspicion  that 
she  had  seen  there  many  times  before. 

"  Are  you  wantin'  old  Taggart  to  get  away  with 
the  idol?"  he  demanded. 

"He  can't!"  she  denied.  "He  hasn't  the 
diagram,  has  he?  You  have  just  put  it  in  your 
pocket!" 

A  quick  embarrassment  swept  over  him;  he 
dropped  his  hands  from  her  face.  "  I  reckon 
that's  right,"  he  admitted.  "But  I'm  goin'  to 
send  him  over  the  divide,  idol  or  no  idol." 

"He  won't  be  in  the  timber  grove,"  she  per 
sisted;  "he  must  have  heard  the  shooting  and  he 
wouldn't  stay." 

"I  reckon  he  won't  be  able  to  run  away  from. 

[333] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

that  black  horse,"  he  laughed.      "  I'll  ketch  him 
before  he  gets  very  far." 

"You  shan't  go!"  she  declared,  making  a  ges 
ture  of  impotence.  "  Don't  you  see?  "  she  added. 
"It  isn't  Taggart  that  I  care  about — it's  you. 
I  don't  want  you  to  be  shot — killed.  I  won't 
have  it!  If  Taggart  hasn't  gone  by  this  time 
he  will  be  hidden  somewhere  over  there  and  when 
he  sees  you  he  will  shoot  you !  " 

"Well,"  he  said,  watching  her  face  with  a 
curious  smile;  "I'm  takin'  a  look,  anyway."  In 
spite  of  her  efforts  to  prevent  him  he  stepped 
over  the  threshold.  She  was  about  to  follow 
him  when  she  saw  him  wheel  swiftly,  his  pistol 
at  a  poise  as  his  gaze  fell  upon  something  out 
side  the  ranchhouse.  And  then  she  saw  him 
smile. 

"It's  Bob,"  he  said;  "with  a  rifle."  And  he 
helped  the  boy,  white  of  face  and  trembling, 
though  with  the  light  of  stern  resolution  in  his 
eyes,  into  the  kitchen. 

"  Bob'll  watch  you,"  he  said;  "  so's  nothin'  will 
happen  to  you.  Besides — "  he  leaned  forward  in 
a  listening  attitude;  "Toban  an'  the  boys  are 
comin'.  I  reckon  what  I'm  goin'  to  do  won't 
take  me  long — if  Taggart's  in  the  timber." 
[334] 


FOR  THE  ALTARS  OF  HIS  TRIBE 

He  stepped  down  and  vanished  around  the  cor 
ner  of  the  ranchhouse. 

He  had  scarcely  gone  before  there  was  a  clatter 
of  hoofs  in  the  ranchhouse  yard,  a  horse  dashed 
up  to  the  edge  of  the  porch,  came  to  a  sliding 
halt  and  the  lank  figure  of  Toban  appeared  before 
the  door  in  which  Betty  was  standing. 

He  looked  at  her,  noted  her  white  face,  and 
peered  over  her  shoulder  at  Bob,  with  the  rifle, 
at  Taggart  on  the  floor. 

"  Holy  smoke  !  "  he  said ;  "  what's  happened  ?  " 

She  told  him  quickly,  in  short,  brief  sentences; 
her  eyes  glowing  with  fear.  He  tried  to  squeeze 
past  her  to  get  into  the  kitchen,  but  she  prevented 
him,  blocking  the  doorway,  pushing  hysterically 
against  him  with  her  hands. 

"Calumet  has  gone  to  the  timber  grove — to 
the  clearing  —  to  look  for  Tom  Taggart.  Tag 
gart  will  ambush  him,  will  kill  him  !  I  don't  want 
him  killed!  Go  to  him,  Toban  —  get  him  to 
come  back ! " 

"  Shucks,"  said  Toban,  grinning;  "  I  reckon  you 
don't  need  to  worry  none.  If  Taggart's  over  in 
the  timber  an'  he  sees  Calumet  he'll  just  naturally 
forget  he's  got  a  gun.  But  if  it'll  ease  your  mind 
any,  I'll  go  after  him.  Damn  his  hide,  any- 

[335] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

way!"  he  chuckled.  "I  was  braggin'  up  my 
cayuse  to  him,  an'  after  we  met  Dade  an'  Mal 
colm  he  run  plumb  away  from  me.  Ride !  Holy 
smoke! " 

He  crossed  the  porch,  leaped  into  the  saddle 
and  disappeared  amid  a  clatter  of  hoofs. 

Betty  stood  rigid  in  the  doorway,  listening  — 
dreading  to  hear  that  which  she  expected  to  hear 
—  the  sound  of  a  pistol  shot  which  would  tell  her 
that  Calumet  and  Taggart  had  met. 

But  no  sound  reached  her  ears  from  the  direc 
tion  of  the  timber  grove.  She  heard  another 
sound  presently — the  faint  beat  of  hoofs  that 
grew  more  distinct  each  second.  It  was  Dade 
and  Malcolm  coming,  she  knew,  and  when  they 
finally  rode  up  and  Dade  flung  himself  from 
the  saddle  and  darted  to  her  side  she  was  paler 
than  at  any  time  since  her  first  surprise  of  the 
night. 

Again  she  was  forced  to  tell  her  story.  And 
after  it  was  finished,  and  she  had  watched  Dade 
and  Malcolm  carry  Neal  Taggart  from  the  room, 
she  went  over  to  where  Bob  sat,  took  him  by  the 
shoulder  and  led  him  to  one  of  the  kitchen  win 
dows,  and  there,  holding  him  close  to  her,  her 
face  white,  she  stared  with  dreading,  anxious  eyes 
[336] 


FOR  THE  ALTARS  OF  HIS  TRIBE 

through  the  glass  toward  the  timber  clump.  She 
would  have  gone  out  to  see  for  herself,  but  she 
knew  that  she  could  do  nothing.  If  he  did  not 
come  back  she  knew  that  she  would  not  want  to 
stay  at  the  Lazy  Y  any  longer;  she  knew  that 
without  him  — 

She  no  longer  weighed  him  in  the  balances  of 
her  affection  as  she  stood  there  by  the  wmdow,  she 
did  not  critically  array  his  good  qualities  against 
the  bad.  She  had  passed  that  point  now.  She 
merely  wanted  him.  That  was  all  —  she  just 
wanted  him.  And  when  at  last  she  saw  him 
coming;  heard  his  voice,  she  hugged  Bob  closer 
to  her,  and  with  her  face  against  his  sobbed 
silently. 

A  few  minutes  after  he  left  the  ranchhouse 
Calumet  was  in  the  clearing  in  the  timber  grove, 
standing  over  the  body  of  a  man  who  lay  face 
upward  beside  a  freshly-dug  hole  at  the  edge 
of  a  mesquite  clump.  He  was  still  standing  there 
when  a  few  minutes  later  Toban  came  clattering 
up  on  his  horse.  The  sheriff  dismounted  and 
stood  beside  him. 

Calumet  gave  Toban  one  look  and  then  spoke 
shortly: 

[337] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"Taggart,"  he  said. 

"  Lord !  "  said  Toban,  in  an  awed  voice ;  "  what 
in  blazes  did  you  do  to  him?  I  didn't  hear  no 
shootin' !  Is  he  dead?" 

Both  kneeled  over  the  prone  figure  and  Calu 
met  pointed  to  the  haft  of  a  knife  that  was  buried 
deep  in  the  body  near  the  heart. 

"Telza's,"  said  Calumet,  as  he  examined  the 
handle.  "I  dropped  it  here  the  other  night; 
the  night  Sharp  was  killed." 

"Correct,"  said  Toban;  "I  saw  you  drop  it." 
He  smiled  at  the  quick,  inquiring  glance  Calumet 
gave  him. 

"  I  was  comin'  through  here  after  tendin'  to 
some  business  an'  I  saw  Telza  knife  Sharp.  I 
piled  onto  Telza  an'  beat  him  up  a  little.  Lordy, 
how  that  little  copper-skinned  devil  did  fight! 
But  I  squelched  him.  I  heard  some  one  comin', 
thought  it  was  one  of  Taggarts,  an'  dragged  Telza 
behind  that  scrub  brush  over  there.  I  saw  you 
come,  but  I  wasn't  figgerin'  on  makin'  any  expla 
nations  for  my  bein'  around  the  Lazy  Y  at  that 
time  of  the  night,  an'  besides  I  saw  the  Taggarts 
sneakin'  up  on  you.  While  they  was  gassin'  to 
you  I  had  one  knee  on  Telza's  windpipe  an'  my 
rifle  pointin'  in  the  general  direction  of  the  Tag- 
[338] 


FOR  THE  ALTARS  OF  HIS  TRIBE 

garts,  figgerin'  that  if  they  tried  to  start  anything 
I'd  beat  them  to  it.  But  as  it  turned  out  it  wasn't 
necessary.  I  sure  appreciated  your  tender 
heartedness  toward  them  poor  dumb  brutes  of  the 
Taggarts. 

"After  you  set  the  Taggarts  to  walkin'  home, 
I  took  Telza  to  Lazette  an'  locked  him  up  for 
murderin'  Sharp." 

"I  reckon,  then,"  said  Calumet,  a  puzzled 
frown  wrinkling  his  forehead  as  he  looked  from 
Taggart  to  the  freshly  dug  hole;  "  that  somebody 
else  killed  Taggart.  It  was  someone  who  knew 
where  the  idol  was,  too  —  he'd  been  diggin' 
for  it." 

"  I  reckon  you've  got  me,"  said  Toban.  "  Sharp 
an'  Telza  an'  you  an'  Betty  is  the  only  one's  that 
ever  saw  the  diagram.  I  saw  you  pick  it  up 
from  where  Telza  dropped  it  when  I  was  maulin' 
him.  I  know  you  didn't  do  any  diggin'  for  the 
idol;  I  know  Betty  wouldn't;  an'  Sharp's  dead, 
an'  Telza's  in  jail — " 

There  was  a  clatter  of  hoofs  from  the  direc 
tion  of  the  ranchhouse.  Both  men  turned  to  con 
front  a  horseman  who  was  coming  rapidly  toward 
them,  and  as  he  came  closer  Toban  cried  out  in 
surprise : 

[339] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

"Ed  Bernse!"  he  said;  "what  in  thunder  are 
you  doin'  here?" 

"Trailin'  a  jail  breaker!"  said  the  latter. 
"That  copper-skinned  weazel  we  had  in  there 
slipped  out  some  way.  He  stole  a  horse  an' 
come  in  this  direction.  Got  an  hour's  start 
of  me!" 

Calumet  laughed  shortly  and  turned  to  the  new- 
made  excavation,  making  a  thorough  examination 
of  it. 

At  its  bottom  was  a  square  impression,  a  mold 
such  as  would  be  left  by  the  removal  of  a  box. 
Calumet  stood  up  and  grinned  at  Toban. 

"The  idol's  gone,"  he  said.  "Telza's  got  it. 
You  go  back  to  Lazette,"  he  said  to  Bernse,  "  an' 
tell  the  man  who  owns  the  horse  that  Calumet 
Marston  will  be  glad  to  pay  for  it — he's  that 
damned  glad  he's  got  rid  of  the  idol." 

Followed  by  Bernse,  Calumet  and  Toban  re 
turned  to  the  ranchhouse.  When  they  neared  it 
they  were  met  by  Dade  and  Malcolm,  bearing 
between  them  the  body  of  Neal  Taggart.  Calu 
met  directed  them  to  the  clearing,  telling  them 
briefly  what  they  would  find  there,  and  then, 
with  Toban  and  Bernse,  continued  on  to  the 
ranchhouse, 

[340] 


FOR  THE  ALTARS  OF  HIS  TRIBE 

Bernse  hesitated  at  the  door.  "I  reckon  I'll 
be  lightin'  out  for  town,"  he  said  to  the  sheriff. 

"Wait,"  said  the  sheriff;  "I'll  be  goin'  that 
way  myself,  directly." 

Calumet  had  preceded  Toban.  As  the  latter 
was  speaking  to  Bernse,  Calumet  stood  before 
Betty,  who,  with  Bob,  had  moved  to  the  sitting- 
room  door  and  was  standing,  pale,  her  eyes  moist 
and  brilliant  with  the  depth  of  her  emotions. 

Briefly,  he  told  her  what  he  had  found  in  the 
clearing. 

"  And  the  idol's  gone,"  he  concluded.  "  Telza's 
got  it" 

"Thank  God!"  she  exclaimed,  devoutly. 

"  I  reckon,"  came  Toban's  voice,  as  he  stepped 
across  the  kitchen  floor  toward  them,  "  that  we'd 
better  bring  this  here  idol  business  to  an  end. 
Mebbe  it's  bothered  you  folks  a  heap,  but  it's 
had  me  sorta  uneasy,  too."  He  grinned  at  Betty. 
"  Mebbe  you'd  better  show  him  his  dad's  last 
letter,"  he  suggested.  "  I  reckon  it'll  let  me  out 
of  this  deal.  An'  I'm  sure  wantin'  to  go  back 
home." 

Betty  vanished  into  the  sitting-room  in  an  in 
stant,  and  presently  returned  bearing  an  envelope 
of  the  shape  and  size  which  had  contained  all  of 

[341] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

the  elder  Marston's  previous  communications  to 
Calumet.  She  passed  it  over  to  the  latter  and 
she  and  the  sheriff  watched  him  while  he  read. 

"Mv  DEAR  SON:  If  you  receive  this  you  will 
understand  that  by  this  time  Betty  is  satisfied  that 
you  have  qualified  for  your  heritage.  I  thank  you 
and  wish  I  were  there  to  shake  your  hand,  to  look 
into  your  eyes  and  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  for 
your  sake. 

"As  soon  as  you  have  your  affairs  in  shape  I 
want  you  to  marry  Betty  —  if  she  will  have  you. 
I  think  she  will,  for  she  is  in  love  with  your  pic 
ture. 

"  By  this  time  you  will  know  that  I  didn't  leave 
Betty  alone  to  cope  with  the  Taggarts.  If  Dave 
Toban  has  kept  his  word  —  and  I  know  he  has  — 
he  has  visited  the  Lazy  Y  pretty  often.  I  didn't 
want  you  to  know  that  he  was  back  of  Betty, 
and  so  I  have  told  him  to  visit  her  secretly.  He 
will  give  you  what  money  is  left  in  the  bank  at 
Las  Vegas  —  we  thought  it  would  be  safer  over 
there. 

"  I  want  to  thank  you  again.      God  bless  you. 
"Your  father, 

"JAMES  MARSTON." 

[342] 


FOR  THE  ALTARS  OF  HIS  TRIBE 

Calumet  slowly  folded  the  letter  and  placed  it 
into  a  pocket.  He  looked  at  Toban,  a  glint  of 
reproach  in  his  eyes. 

"  So,  it  was  you  that  I  kept  hearin'  in  the  office 
—  nights,"  he  said. 

"I  reckon,"  said  Toban.  He  looked  at  Betty 
and  grinned. 

Calumet  also  looked  at  her.  His  face  was 
sober. 

"  I  reckon  I've  been  some  fool,"  he  said. 
"  But  I  was  more  than  a  fool  when  I  thought — " 

"I  didn't  blame  you  much  for  that,"  smiled 
Betty.  "You  see,  both  times  you  heard  us  talk 
ing  it  happened  that  Taggart  was  somewhere  in 
the  vicinity,  and — " 

"Well,"  interrupted  Toban  with  a  grin;  "1 
reckon  you  two  will  be  able  to  get  along  without 
any  outside  interference,  now." 

They  both  watched  in  silence  as  he  went  to  the 
door  and  stepped  outside.  He  halted  and  looked 
at  them,  whereat  they  both  reddened.  Then  he 
grinned  widely  and  was  gone. 

Betty  stood  at  one  side  of  the  sitting-room  door, 

Calumet  at  the  other.     Both  were  in  the  kitchen. 

Bob,  also,  was  in  the  kitchen,  though  Calumet  and 

Betty  did  not  see  him;    so  it  appeared  to  Bob. 

[343] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

Having  some  recollection  of  a  certain  light  in 
Betty's  eyes  on  the  night  that  Calumet  had  brought 
home  the  puppy,  Bob's  wisdom  impelled  him  to 
compare  it  with  the  light  that  was  in  them  now, 
and  he  suspected  —  he  knew  — 

And  so,  very  gently,  very  quietly,  with  infinite 
care  and  patience,  lest  they  become  aware  of  his 
presence,  he  edged  toward  the  kitchen  door,  his 
rifle  in  hand.  Still  they  did  not  seem  to  notice 
him,  and  so  he  passed  through  the  door,  into  the 
dining-room,  backed  to  the  stairs,  and  so  left 
them. 

The  silence  between  Betty  and  Calumet  con 
tinued,  and  they  still  stood  where  they  had  stood 
when  Bob  had  stolen  away,  for  they  heard  sounds 
outside  that  warned  them  of  the  approach  of 
Dade  and  Malcolm. 

But  it  seemed  they  did  not  see  Dade  and  Mal 
colm  stop  at  one  of  the  kitchen  windows,  and 
certainly  they  did  not  hear  the  whispered  con 
versation  that  was  carried  on  between  the  two. 

"Shucks,"  said  Dade;  "it  begins  to  look  like 
Cal  an'  Betty's  quarrel  is — " 

"I  reckon  we  won't  go  in,"  decided  Malcolm; 
"  not  right  now.  Mebbe  in  an  hour,  or  so.  Let's 
go  down  to  the  bunkhouse  and  play  a  little  pitch." 
[344] 


FOR  THE  ALTARS  OF  HIS  TRIBE 

They  were  all  alone  now.  And  Love  had  not 
been  blind  to  the  stealthy  activities  that  had  been 
carried  on  around  it. 

Betty  turned  her  head  and  looked  at  Calumet. 
He  smiled  at  her  —  it  was  the  smile  of  a  man 
who  has  won  a  battle  with  something  more  than 
the  material  things;  it  was  the  smile  of  a  man 
who  has  conquered  self  —  the  smile  of  the  ruler 
who  knows  the  weakness  of  the  citadel  he  has 
taken  and  plans  its  strengthening.  It  was  the 
smile  of  the  master  who  realizes  the  potent  influ 
ence  of  the  ally  who  has  aided  in  his  exaltation 
and  who  meditates  reward  through  the  simple 
method  of  bestowing  upon  the  ally  without  reser 
vation  that  citadel  which  she  has  helped  to  take 
and  which,  needless  to  say,  she  prizes.  But  it 
was  something  more,  too,  that  smile.  It  was  the 
smile  of  the  mere  Man  —  the  man,  repentant, 
humble,  petitioning  to  the  woman  he  has  selected 
as  his  mate. 

"  I  reckon,"  he  said;  "that  they  all  thought 
we  wanted  to  be  alone." 

But  the  ally  was  not  prepared  for  this  precipi 
tate  bestowal  of  reward,  and  as  she  blushed  and 
looked  down  at  the  toe  of  her  shoe,  sticking  out 
from  beneath  the  hem  of  her  skirt,  she  looked 

[345] 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

little  like  a  person  who  had  conducted  a  bitter  war 
for  the  master  who  stood  near  her. 

"Oh,"  she  said;  "did  you  hear  them?" 

"  I  reckon  I  heard  them,"  he  said.  He  went 
closer  to  her.  "They're  wise  —  Dade  an'  Mal 
colm.  Bob,  too.  Wiser  than  me.  But  I'm 
gettin'  sense,  an'  I'll  come  pretty  close  to  bein' 
a  man  —  give  me  time.  All  I  need  is  a  boss. 
An'  if  you— " 

"  I  reckon,"  said  Dade,  stretching  himself  an 
hour  later,  "that  we'll  turn  in.  That  brandin' 
today,  an'  that  ridin'  tonight  has  bushed  me  — 
kinda." 

Malcolm  agreed  and  they  stepped  to  the  bunk- 
house  door. 

The  moonlight  threw  a  mellow  glare  upon  the 
porch  of  the  ranchhouse  near  the  kitchen  door. 
It  bathed  in  its  effulgent  flood  two  figures,  the 
boss  and  the  master,  who  were  sitting  close  to 
gether —  very  close  together  —  on  the  porch. 

The  two  figures  came  into  instant  focus  in 
Dade's  vision.  He  stepped  back  with  a  amused 
growl  and  gave  place  to  Malcolm,  who  also 
looked. 

Silently  they  went  back  into  the  bunkhouse. 

"I  reckon,"  suggested  Dade,  from  the  dark- 
[346] 


FOR  THE  ALTARS  OF  HIS  TRIBE 

ness,  "that  if  we're  figgerin'  to  go  to  bed  we'll 
have  to  bunk  right  here.  There's  no  tellin'  when 
them  two  will  get  through  mushin'.  An'  it's 
been  too  hard  a  tussle  for  them  to  have  us  dis- 
turbin'  them  now." 

From  the  porch  there  came  a  low  protest  from 
the  ally. 

"Don't,  Cal,"  she  said;  "don't  you  see  that 
Dade  and  Malcolm  are  watching  us?" 

"Jealous,  I  guess,"  he  laughed.  "Well,  let 
them  watch.  I  reckon,  if  they're  around  here  for 
any  time,  after  this,  they'll  see  me  kissin'  you 
plenty  more." 

THE   END 


DATE  DUE 


CAYLORD 


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